


Magic AU

by Alverick



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Explicit Sexual Content, F/F, F/M, M/M, Magic AU, Masturbation, Necromancers, Partial Nudity, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Slow Burn, Unhealthy Coping Mechanisms, Violence, Werewolf, Werewolf Jesse McCree, Zombies, mentions of canibalism, mentions of torture, nerds
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-03-27
Updated: 2017-11-16
Packaged: 2018-10-11 14:53:33
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 9
Words: 22,659
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10467612
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Alverick/pseuds/Alverick
Summary: It's like a good magic au. But shitty, because it's me <3





	1. The Necromancer

**Author's Note:**

> Hey, so ever thought about what roles Overwatch Characters would pick in DnD? I think Reyes would be a necromancer, but a hipster one who would be broody and hate being a necromancer.
> 
> So I wrote this. A series based entirely on that thought, just Overwatch people, my favorite ships, magic, and suffering crammed into a mostly self-decadent story. Enjoy.  
> Also this has only been proof-read by me, so I don't even know if it'll make sense. I think the term is, like, un-beta'd? I don't know. Also tags to be added as I continue, as I think them up.

Rot.

“What’s wrong, little man, can’t even handle this?!”

Decay,

“I haven’t even showed you something remotely interesting!!”

Something long dead. It made me want to puke.

 

I dive back into the trees, gripping onto my shotguns for dear life. The zombies were right on my god damn heels, body filled with bullets already. 

This is why I fucking hate necromancers.

 

“Take the job, he said. It’d be easy, he said.” I grumble to myself, blowing out some poor fucker’s brains when he got just a little too close to my cloak. It’d be easier if his partner had showed up, albeit I should have radioed in before even entering this guy’s obvious fucking trap.

And now- “Want’s wrong, damn Watchdog getting tired? Just die and turn to mulch, you shit!” the deranged man says, the shambles of his communicator by his feet.

I growl, trying to find some opening, but he was surrounded by what equated to mushy meat-shields. 

“I don’t know if you’re some unlucky son of a bitch, or a stupid one, but I sure as hell ain’t gonna take pity on your fucking soul!”

Seriously, why are all coven leaders bat-shit crazy?

I take out a few more, not taking the chance of staying still. He’s got some kind of ornate pistol in his holster, I just hope it was for a ritual rather than actual shooting.

*Click*

Damn, out.

“ _Mother’s flame, gather. Grandmother’s coal, fuel. Ancient Ash, join_.” Let’s see how you like this, you fucker. “Enchant: explode.”

I fling my shotguns at him, and one of his zombies jumps in the way, letting it hit his head with a stomach-churning thud, his soft skull sporting a nasty indent.

I go right into his line of sight, and he doesn’t hesitate to shout for his minions to chase after me. I smirk, flipping him off as the shotguns turn molten red, just as his pets move close enough and-  
***BOOM***

A huge ball of fire, incinerating almost everything in the little clearing, stopping just a few feet away from me. The necromancer himself wasn’t in the epicenter, but damn if he didn’t have some nasty burns now.

“Then again . . .” I reach into my coat, pulling out two more shotguns from the shadowy insides, shooting down the last few still chasing me. “I doubt something like that would be enough for the final boss.”

The flames and smoke subside, the earth smoldering and ravaged, torn up and burned. But there he was, most of his cloths burned off, his skin red and black, but for the most part fine.

“Y-You fucker!” He shouts, taking the revolver out of it’s holster, still a shining silver. “That God damn HURT!” he puts the gun against his hand, shooting it.

He doubles over in pain, gripping his hand by the wrist and holding out, the blood dripping to the ground in red gushes and bursts. I take a step back. 

“ _Old B-Beast’s Burdens, T-Take red icho-or into your maw_ ,” he groans out in pain, but even with a half incantation, that gun seemed to be something else. The little curving lines etched into it glowed a pale white, like the moon, shining through the blood.

He places it in the ground, and the white seeps into the dirt, making a circle large enough to fit a damn elephant, what the hell was he summoning?!

“Tch.” I force my legs to move forward, no time to be a pansy. I raise my shotguns at him, shooting wildly, some of the shells sinking into him, tearing his skin apart. But the extra blood just seems to speed things up.

He grins.

“C’mon out, Boy!!” he says, slamming his bloodied, mangled hand into the ground. It bursts, from the center of the circle, white light coming out not unlike the explosion from a few minutes ago, something clawing it’s way out from whatever the circle had led to on the other side.

I lower my guns, willing my body into a smoke, a wraith. 

 

My eyes widen, claws slashing and hacking through me, or through the smoke of me, I should say. Blood red eyes, dark fur, and the size of a van.

He opens his maw, roaring and shaking the fucking ground in rage as he quickly learns he can’t really tear into me.

Why the hell did the Deadlock Coven have a werewolf?! I slip out backwards, into one of the trees. 

Damn fine day to have had my runes juiced up. Without the regular concealing blessings in my cloak, he’d probably fine me in-

“What the hell?!” I shout as I jump backwards into another tree, branches slashed and tossed everywhere.

“Not so tough now, huh, DOG?!” he shouts, weakly raising his hand to grip . . . a small chain?

“GRAAAAH!!!” no time! I leap downwards and start weaving through the trees again, barely avoiding claws the size of god damn steak knives, trying to find some way to- The chain.

It was wrapped around the wolf’s neck. I spare a glance over to the necromancer, seeing his wounds close up, burns fading. Son of a bitch was sapping his vitality!

“Hahahaha! Things are just getting started, fucker!” he shouts, drawing something in the ground with his blood. “You got your tricks, sure, but I ain’t losing to a half-baked mage and a few magic tricks!”

And just like before, more zombies dig their way out of the ground, their entrance marked by pale, sickly green lights, illuminating their gross, mushy faces. Like those cheesy movies he and Jack would watch.

I dig in my heel and spin towards the wolf, shooting right in his face, the wolf tumbling back, gripping his eyes in agony. But this guy’s old. And strong.

“ _My feathers, wilted. Beak crooked. Claws dull. I am old, ever gleaming. Yet I fly_.” I drop my guns, they quickly dissolve back into shadow when they hit the ground. From my belt, I pull out my combat knife, nicking my finger as I continue running, sliding the bloodied finger along the flat of the blade.

“I am blind, yet my eyes are wide. I am small, yet I hunt great ones-“

“ **RRGRGAAAAAAAOOOOOOOOHHHHH** ” that doesn’t sound friendly. I slash at the trees, making large gashes, that is until some zombie assholes decided to try to blitz me from behind a few trees. 

I smirk, slashing at them, too, but they were too shallow to do any real damage. 

And look who’s back, the dog, literally punting and throwing his zombie buddies to try to get to me. But I ghost away before he can rip out my throat.

“ _I am wise, yet always hunger. Quiet, yet will not be ignored. I am the owl, undeterred_.”

Sickly green circles glow from the slashes, and from them, little blobs of shadows seem to push out, until popping in a disgusting ooze of liquid, revealing a boney owl with black feathers, the oily  
substance gathering around them to fill their wings.

The same thing happens to the zombies as well, rotted skin pushing out and bursting in the same inky black, owls poking through guts and arms and skulls, pecking at their master’s enemies.

“Wh-What?” The necromancer says, his wounds mostly healed, other than the gunshot wound on his hand.

I settle down back in the clearing, turning solid. “What. I thought you wanted to see something more than a trick.” I say. The owls screech, flocking and pecking and slashing at the already frayed skin of the undead, stabbing at their eyes, having their fill of flesh. But the majority of them are on the wolf, slashing and pecking where they can, most of the time circling and avoiding his claws. Or teeth. Or just about anything and everything on the wolf.

“Y-You’re a necromancer?” he says, looking paler than before. “Th-Then where’s your undead? Your servants?!”

I snort. “Why the fuck do I need any of that bullshit?” I pull out a shotgun from my cloak. “The smell is awful. The aftertaste is awful. Everything about necromancers is awful. Why the hell would I want to use any of your garbage magic?” I point the gun, shooting him point blank in the chest, sending the frail man back a good foot from just the force. “Bad enough the nature is ingrained in my magic.” 

He’s sprawled out on the ground, limp, the bullet wounds smoking, blood oozing out of the wounds. Seems like the bullets tore all the way back out of him.

I turn around to leave, but a pit opens up in my gut as I see the zombies and the werewolf still there, the owls dwindling.

I turn, only to see the frail man launch himself onto my back, biting down on my shoulder.

He grins, easing off of me, but I could see my magic being siphoned off into him, still. “You fucked up.”

I growl, feeling my strength being sapped off. I should have realized the moment I saw the chain.

“My base is Nosferatu, and as long as my little pet over there is alive, I can drain off energy. And now the same applies to you!” he says, giddy like a child.

 

I let out a sigh. “Is that really all?” I say, tensing up, letting my magic gather and well-up. I look directly at his face, grabbing the side of his skull with one hand. “Thought it was some kind of soul-bond curse.” He scratches and claws weakly at my arm to no avail. “But if it’s just a simple magic draining curse, it won’t be too bad to deal with.”

He’s taken aback, probably from my eyes turning all black, other than the deep crimson iris. Jack always thought they looked so pretty. This “coven leader” looked like he was gonna shit himself. He starts throwing punches at me, the frail arms and boney hands only vaguely annoying.

“ _I hunger as I weep. I toss as I sleep_.” He starts to try and squeeze me in some last-ditch effort, but I just tighten my grip on him. “ _I smile, as he watches. Ah memories, so sweet_.”

He loosens his hold enough for me to throw him onto the ground, grabbing him and smashing his head into the dirt, my hand covering his mouth.

“Yet centuries have passed, and your face simply lingers.” Tears well up in his eyes as a dark purple mist emits from me. “And I am light, already gleaming. Beard long, to my chest.” I grab at the thin strands of energy that connected me to him, watching as his heart breaks as I will it to crumble and sever, his last hope at life. “I sharpen my knife, on an old dusty mat. Winter ends, and spring comes.”

I take some blood from the fresh wound, gently wiping it on his forehead. “ _Oh how I miss you so. Oh how I’ll see you soon. Before I forget, my love_.”

His eyes widen, bugging out as the blood smeared on his head turns a deep purple, then the sickly green, before fading completely, his body crumpling, becoming limp and cold.

 

I take my hand off his mouth, black and red mist gathering in my palm from his mouth. I look up and see the owls crumble to dust, as does the zombies, little wisps of red coming off of them too, the wolf keeling over, and rather large soul being torn out of his chest. 

I let out a sigh, wiping my brow, and gripping at what equated to his soul. Just a tiny little glowing red orb. Like a lantern. Licking my lips, I cram the thing into my mouth, swallowing it whole, cringing at the awful taste. It was like the black sludge from a composter, or a rotting animal covered in tar.

But it replenished my magic enough.

I lean down and pick up the revolver, most of the blood burned off, luckily. Seemed like pretty good proof of a job well done, if the soul itself wasn’t enough. Maybe Jack could find some use for it.

I walk over to the werewolf, lying limp on the ground. I’m particularly guilty about this one. As viscous as he was, I’m sure being with that sorry excuse of a magus didn’t help. Probably tortured the damn fool until it got too scared to lash out. 

I hold the large soul tenderly-

*haaa . . .*

I freeze, staring back at the wolf as I see it clearly starting to breathe. What the hell kind of vitality did this thing have?!

It starts to spasm and I back way the fuck up as it starts to shift, bones cracking and fur falling off, the whole body shifting back . . . into . . . oh god.

Sputtering for air, naked as the day he was born, covered with scars old and new, was a god damn fucking kid! Old and powerful my ass, he couldn’t have been a day over 18!

I turn the kid onto his back, ignoring the weak whining I got from him as I slowly press the soul back into him, making him jerk and thrash in pain as I force it the rest of the way in. Damn it, shit, fucking, shit! He could imagine Jack’s face now, all teary about how he was so young, tortured past, should have saved him, blah blah blah.

I wrap him in my coat to help with the shivering. A good sign, honestly, but if I’m gonna save this kid, I’m gonna have to book it.

I don’t think I can go through another bout of that blondie’s depressed phase.


	2. The Werewolf

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Introducing a few new characters, a few new tags, and some soft moments!
> 
> Also Angela (Mercy) is here <3
> 
> And special shoutout to my friends, who are on here but who's online names I forgot to get, they helped a metric butt-ton helping me edit

“A God damn kid, Gabe?!” Jack shouts, flinging off everything from the office desk in the sheriff’s office that they had commandeered.

“Like I said, he was TRYING TO KILL ME!” I shout, laying down said kid in question, still wrapped in my coat.

“What’d you use on him?” he says, getting out his duffel bag and rummaging for the proper medical tools.

“Suicide Theatre, Act I.” I say, pulling a small leather bound book out from the front pocket Jack always seemed to forget about.

“Are you _still_ calling it that?” he says, raising an eyebrow as he takes the book and flips through a few pages.

“It’s cool.”

“It’s from an anime.”

“Manga, pendejo.” I grumble as I pull out his ceremonial dagger.

“Whatever.” He says, pulling out a plethora of ingredients. “We’ll need to nullify the Death’s Touch curse, as well as soothe the soul.”

“I’ll mix, you just start the hymn.” I say, taking the book from him and measuring everything out.

He reaches to the chain hanging on his neck, pulling it off and revealing a cross. It glows faintly as he holds it up, his eyes turning an even more brilliant blue. Like lightning.

“ _Blessed be the fruit. Blessed be the crop._ ” I shake myself out of it, pouring in breast milk, purified sandstone, and softened quartz into a mortar, crushing and grinding it into a soupy consistency.

“ _Blessed be the rain. Blessed be the love. May ye have a blessed life._ ” I throw in a small gold leaf, making sure it melts before I dip in the sapphire, taking it out immediately.

“ _Be thankful for sweet summer air. Thankful for spring flowers from snow white. From leaves ablaze and food aplenty._ ” I add some dried sage leaves, sea salts, and just a small drop of my own magic.

“ _For this life is good, no matter how sad. For this life is fulfilling, no matter what suffering. For you have everything to be thankful for, blessed child._ ” He holds out a hand to me, and, with far more care than I’ll ever admit, I bring the knife to his thumb.

I make a shallow line, he doesn’t even wince.

I take the flat of the blade and run his thumb across it, his blood filling in the grooves and making angelic design turn crimson.

I hand him the knife, and he grips it along with his Focus, the cross hanging so low it’s almost brushing the kid’s neck.

“Gabe.” He says. I hand him the bowl. He takes it with his other hand and tips it right over the blade, a small stream of the thick liquid landing near the base of the blade.

The concoction quickly runs into the grooves, carrying the blood with it, but remaining an opaque white, almost like a liquid pearl. It finally runs off the tip, right into the boy’s mouth.

“Bl-ccghlahw!” he coughs suddenly, trying to turn his head away. I hold him in place, making sure the liquid landing into his mouth. He kept coughing and hacking, but it didn’t help a bit. I should know, just about all these damn potions had to be inhaled. They felt liquid all the way to the back of the throat, they vaporized.

Ah, the shitty wonders of magic.

Soon, he began thrashing, bones cracking as fur began to sprout, choking the entire time. His entire frame seemed to balloon before suddenly deflating, making him toss and tremble even more violently. His body probably didn’t have the capacity to shift, like trying to run with a broken leg. It hurts.

“C’mon, just a lil’ more.” Jack mutters, his accent becoming more pronounced. “Almost there.”

The liquid finally slows to drips before sliding off the blade cleanly, all the blood and any other liquid completely gone. The kid evidently also starts to calm down too, eyes shooting open and taking a lot of fast, deep breaths before said eyes inevitably rolling back into his head and passing out.

Jack leaned against the table, panting, wiping off some sweat from his face as he throws the blade and bowl to the side. “Damn it, Gabe, once you found the coven leader you should have contacted me.”

“I would’ve, but I got too close and before I knew it, my com was smashed.” I say, mostly telling the truth. Didn’t _have_ to get that close to know it was the Deadlock coven . . .

“B-Bullshit.” He says, legs buckling a bit, but catching himself. Even so, I go over to him and hook his arm around me, helping him into a nearby chair. “I-I can walk myself.”

“Jack. You’ve been setting up runes and talismans all day.” One of the reasons I didn’t call him. “You need to rest, I don’t want you to hurt yourself.” The other.

“I’m fine.” He says, blue eyes glaring at me. “He, on the other hand, is not.”

“Yeah . . . well, we at least reattached the soul to his physical form.” I say, walking over to the table with the still naked werewolf. “He’ll probably need Angela to help. And a lot of therapy.” I grab a water bottle and toss it to Jack. He catches it effortlessly, popping it open and taking a few large gulps. “From the looks of it, the Deadlock Coven was using him against his will. Who knows for how long . . .”

“Damn bastards . . .” he says, still breathing hard. “Didn’t seem like they were hard to handle, though.”

“It was a dying cult, if you could even call it that. Their coven leader was a 2-bit necromancer trying to use that freak of a werewolf.” I say. “He’s gone now, so job well done, I guess.”

“. . . Hey, you’re bleeding.” He says. I look over to him, his face marred with concern and . . . some kind of grimace.

“Yeah.” I say, crossing my arms and ducking my head, cheeks reddening. “His base was Nosferatu, and I let my guard down.”

He beckons me over. “Let me treat it.”

“I-It’s fine. It’ll heal, like it al-”

“Gabriel. Get the damn first-aid kit and let me treat it.” He says, firmly. “I doubt this guy was very hygienic. I need to treat it and make sure it doesn’t get infected.”

I let out a grunt, but grab the first-aid kit and hand it over to Jack, pulling up a chair so I could sit near him.

“Honestly, you always seem to be the one getting hurt.” He says, pulling out some medical gauze, wipes, and a bottle of what I assumed to be some disinfectant.

“Yeah, well not everyone’s got defensive runes from his nails to his ass-crack.”

“Hey. They got a needle in here, don’t test me.” I shiver, and he chuckles. “Now take off your shirt.”

“Treat a guy to dinner first.” I joke, lifting my shirt carefully and throwing it near the rest of our shit. I glance back and see him giving me a . . . face. “What?”

“Gabriel. You’re at least half-naked most of the time.” He says. “I’ve seen you without your pants on more than your god damn beanie, Gabe. Worst part is you go commando.”

“Hey, gotta ai-AIIYAAAAH!” I shriek as he pats the wound with some cotton pads and the god damn fucking disinfectant. “WARN A GUY, PUTO.”

“Don’t be a pansy.” He says, smirking and throwing the slightly bloodied pads away. “Looks like it’s clotting well, and it isn’t too deep or wide. Angela will be able to heal any nerve damage, but for now we’ll just wrap it.”

“If I get infected, I’m taking you with me.” I grumble, though I knew it was unlikely. A perk of being a necromancer was a good constitution. Kind of.

“You’ll be fine.” He says, chuckling. “At the very least you’ll get some pretty sexy scars to add to the collection.”

“Yeah.” I say, leaning back towards him.

We sit there quietly as he diligently wraps my shoulder, fingers grazing the skin around it. His touch tingled pleasantly. It was nice, just enjoying some silent moments with him. The bandages are pulled taught, getting a wince out of me, but nothing more.

“Grruuhhgh” the werewolf groans from the table, pained.

“Looks like our guest is waking up.” Jack says, standing up slowly. “I’ll get in contact with Angela. Can you get him anything he needs?”

“Got it, boss.” I say, walking towards the groaning kid.

He was breathing normally, no more shivering in the musty, stuffy, unairconditioned office. I lean in closer, lightly slapping his cheek.

“Hey. Hey. You need anything?”

“Wh . . . . Wha . . .” he groans, throat sounding like he was gargling thumb tacks.

“Water it is.” I say, grabbing my water bottle from my duffle bag. Lucky we brought all our shit from the motel. I slide my hand under his head and slowly help him up. He groans, his entire body tensing up. Being stuck transformed so long probably destroyed his body, especially with the amount of energy that got sapped from him.

I pop open the cap and slowly bring it to his lips. “Drink slowly.” I say, carefully tilting the bottle up. His mouth opens and the water slides in. he coughs it all up violently at first, but soon lets the small trickle of water into his mouth before taking a few small gulps.

He takes his time. Takes plenty of breaks for air before going for more. Looking closer at him, he seemed more man than boy, with the scruff on his chin. But he was still no older than about . . . 18? Give or take. His hair was a long, wild mess. Not shoulder length or anything crazy, but definitely unruly.

How long had he been kept in captivity? If that was really his latent abilities as a werewolf, then it wouldn’t be surprising if he had been used most of his life. The thought makes my stomach roil, old scars getting itchy.

“Gabe, Angela says she’s on her way, in a taxi from the airport as we speak.” He says.

“Good. We need him in top shape for when we interrogate.”

“Intero- Gabe. He is _not_ some kind of criminal.”

“Not to the Council.” I say, easing him off the bottle and leaning him back, wrapping my coat tighter around him. He seemed to be a bit better. “We need to make sure we prove he wasn’t willingly participating in all that Deadlock shit, or else they’ll be calling for execution.”

“. . . You’re right.” Jack says. I turn to him and see he’s staring at his feet, face reddening as he scratches at his legs.

I let out a small sigh. “Jack . . . I know it’s not right.” He glances up, his blue eyes turning a bit softer. “But those old farts aren’t gonna be happy with us ‘sympathizing with the enemies’, or some shit.” I say in my best decrepit old man voice. That gets a little laugh out of him, and I smile. “I just hope we don’t get the ‘back in my day, magic was prim and proper and such’ speech.”

Jack actually snorts, covering his mouth to cover his little outburst, ears turning red. I smile a bit wider, there’s that Golden Boy shine.

“Ass.” He says, punching me lightheartedly in my arm, careful not to disturb my wound. He looks back over to the kid, and his expression dampens. Somber. “You think he’ll ever be okay?”

“I . . .” I turn to Jack. “I think he’ll be happy to at least be away from them.”

Jack looks up to him, eyes glimmering and . . . sad, maybe? “Yeah.” They looked like the bay of a fishing hamlet.

“Now go back to your chair, cabrón.” I say pushing him gently away. He walks back to his chair tiredly, flipping me off over his shoulder. I chuckle at that. Angela would be here any minute.

Then we’ll heal him up, have a nice chat, and be all the happier for saving a life.

 

* * * *

 

Fuzzy.

_Kill._

“Hold him down! Morrison! The cuffs!”

My entire body is throbbing. Pained. I wanna change.

_Kill._

“He’s still trying to shift! Where’s the goddamn sedatives?!”

This body is weak. That’s the one lesson drilled into me that’s useful. Obey was a doggy trick, bitter-sweet.

_Kill._

“Damn it, pendejo, we’re trying to help you!”

My eyes snap opening wide, but close. The light sears into my retinas, my head explodes, waves upon waves of pain come crashing and sloshing. I thrash my arms, kicking wildly at the air, but they’re being held down.

_KILL._

I force my eyes open and take in the surroundings, blurry as they might be.

Three people. Arms and legs handcuffed to something, spread apart. I’m naked, and human. But I don’t recognize the place. There’s light, and it smells like stale donuts and mildew. A new base?

I calm down, trying to catch my breath as a soothing warmth wraps around my chest. The scents of the people are different, too. One smelled like cleaning chemicals and fresh air. The other smelled like water and lightning. The last one smelled like old bird feathers and smoke.

_Kill._

“Mister, sir I need you to calm down.” My eyes snap open and lock onto Clean Air, snarling and snapping at her, but I was promptly pushed down, head thudding against-against wood? Something’s wrong, where am I?

“ _Sir._ ” She says, more firmly, but that warmth never letting up, seeping into my chest, flowing through my veins. “Calm . . . down.”

_Danger._

I open my eyes again, slowly, everything was yellow-tinted, and still far too bright. I try to relax em’, the tint leaving and the room darkening to a bearable level, my human eyes adjusting quick. I take deep breaths through my mouth, my teeth aching as fangs kept tryin’ to push out.

“I think he’s calming down.” I glance to my left. A Blondie this time round. “Kid, can you tell me what your name is?”

Name? I snarl. Who th’fuck wanted to know?

_Kill._

“Jack, back up a little.” Another person. Bird feathers and smoke. “It’s gonna be a while before he fully calms the fuck down.”

“For now I will administer first aid, but I must recommend an actual hospital.” Looking at her, she was blond, too. Related to Lightning? No, she had a certain twang in her voice. Some’n European or the like.

_Kill._

My vision blurs, and the room twists while my stomach twirls. I groan, closing my eyes and shutting my mouth, swallowing hard on the rising bile. Everything hurts. Their voices mix into a mush, along with everything else.

 

“arsland doctor meshlabla wondel”

“slock danr weis nnen choice hwen besh killed on sight”

“wshel cun leave him to die!”

_Kill._

Enemies? Of Deadlock? Damn, gonna pay for those assholes again, aren’t I?

 

I black out again. Or maybe I don’t. Not sure. The noises would fade, and then come roaring to life. The warmth spread over me like a blanket, or a warm soup in my belly every now an’ then. Damn I’m hungry.

_Danger._

My head felt like it was gonna pop. How long since I had to actually _think_ for myself?

The warmth slows to a stop, but it eases the pain, all except in my head. There was a strange shifting, warmth coming back, but not quite the same. The smell of blondie gets a lot stronger. Ah, he didn’t smell like water and lightning, but more like a summer storm. Violent.

_Kill. Threat._

I was propped up. Sat down. In a chair? The cushions were soft. There was something pressed against my lips. Cold? Water, actual water. Smells real clean, too.

I parted my lips and let it flow through, taking a few deep gulps. I tried to raise my arm so I could hold the damn thing m’self. But the distinctive pull on my arm told me I was still cuffed.

_Kill._

I didn’t have the strength to try to break through. Not yet. Just a little more time. It was night, still. The moon’s still high. Can feel it.

“He’s so frail, so weak.” The woman.

“Angela, he almost killed me. He might be weak now, but not for long.” The smoke man. Their voices became clearer.

“That does not change the fact he was being used by Deadlock.” The woman. Angela. Enemies of Deadlock? Were they taking pity on me?

_Good. Chance to kill._

I groan, my head hanging downward heavily, chin touching my chest. My stubble felt prickly. Stubble? How long was I . . .

Everything fades out again.

 

Smokey gives me water. Occasionally.

_Kill._

Rain wraps something around me. It’s warm and soft. A blanket?

_Kill._

Angela’s my favorite. She makes the pain go.

_Kill._

 

I open my eyes, looking down at the brown blanket wrapped around me.

“You’re awake.” I snap my head up, my brain feeling like it was slapping around in my head. Everything gets tinted gold, I bare my fangs, but the cuffs are still on me, the cold metal burnin’ my wrists.

“Th-ckrrgk.” I start coughing and heaving, throat’s dry as a desert.

“Please, don’t talk just yet.” I glare at him, it’s Rainy. He brings a water bottle to my lips, but I don’t fight, letting him ease water into my mouth. It’s cold, and it burns my throat, but I gulp it down. Guess now that I’m a bit better, I can start feelin’ a whole lot worse.

He slowly pulls it back when I stop drinking, closing the cap. I stare at him, blankly, warily.

_Break chains. Kill._

“Uh . . . well, my name’s Jack.” He says, running his hand through his wheat-gold hair. “I was one of the people who saved you.”

One of them. I glance around. Angela is sleepin’ in a chair _-Kill-_ and the other is standing in the back, observin’ _-Kill-_ how I was watchin’ blondie.

“Can you tell me your name?” I stare at him.

The silence makes him fidget. “Yeah, that’s a bit sudden, ain’t it?”

 

“Okay . . . let’s start easy. Let me explain some things.” He puts on a more serious face. “My name is Jack Morrison, accompanied by Angela Ziegler and Gabriel Reyes.” He sounded military. Not sure if that comforts or frightens me. “We were here to eliminate a certain coven said to be terrorizing small towns in the south-west.”

“Deadlock.” The man from the back growls. Asshole must be Gabriel.

_Kill him._ -Visions of red flash, him turning to smoke, owls, a sad, sad memory, my family?- _DANGER!_

“Yes. We- Gabriel, specifically- eliminated the coven.” Shiftin’ blame? No, praise. Pride. A friend? _-Kill him first, watch blondie suffer-_ It didn’t matter. “Angela, the woman over there, then healed you. How are you feeling?”

“Like shit.” I spit out.

“Yeah, sorry about that.” He says, grinning and scratching the back of his neck awkwardly. I felt my expression soften, body relaxing.

_DANGER!_

I tense up again. Can’t let down my guard. I knew his type.

“So . . . from the looks of it, you weren’t part of their coven. You were more of a prisoner or a slave. Is that right?” Awfully leadin’ question. He ain’t lyin’, though. He seemed naïve.

_Lies._

“Not exactly.” He looked like I just kicked a damn puppy. Definitely not lyin’. “I sold m’self so them thugs would stop harrasin’ the town.” My voice sounded foreign to me. It got so much deeper. Or maybe it was still raw.

“Sold yourself?” he says, even more worried.

“Yeah. Was a deal. I give em’ some man-power, they leave us the fuck alone.” I say, looking down. “Can’t be sure they held up their end of the bargain. Was forced into a wolf before long.”

“Oh . . .” he looked down, face getting’ red as a tomato. Blush? Nah . . . . He was scratching at his leg. Was almost sad how easy you could read ‘im. He was like a picture book. An audio picture book. For tots.

“Well, being forced into your werewolf form probably meant you weren’t in a mental state to consent. Or probably even think.” Smokey-Asshole-Gabriel says, from the back.

_Kill!_ -More flashes, whips and chains, and knives carving into skin. Chants. A silver gun. Forcing a change, my mind ripped away, bloodied bodies, burning hatred, I hate them, I _hate them, I want to kill them, just DIE YOU BASTARDS, I WANT TO HEAR YOU SCREAM FOR MERCY AS I TEAR A HOLE IN YOUR STOMACH AND FEAST ON YOUR ENTRAILS, YOUR FRIENDS AND FAMILY AND LOVED ONES HANG IN BITS FROM THE CEILING LIKE LIGH-_

“-kid!” I snap back, everything was gold-tinted again. Red round the edges. “You okay?”

I let out a sigh, letting my whole body droop. “No.” how long was I just some rabid animal? The hell’d I even do? “I’m tired.” 

Poor guy looked like he was on the verge of tears. Even Gabriel in the back seemed to soften up.

He reaches forward. Everything tells me he’s _-DANGEROUS! IN RANGE! KILL!-_ but I don’t want to. To be honest, I don’t think I would care if he really did end it all for me.

But the sad sap he is, he reaches down and reaches into the blankets, uncuffing me.

“Well . . . you’re free now.” He says. I stare blankly at him, pulling my wrists close to me and rubbing them, the skin barely bruising. “We can take you back to your family. Or . . . you could join us.”

“. . . Huh?” I stare at him, blue eyes glimmering. It almost made me sick.

“You’re strong. And talented.” He was just such a fuckin’ ray of sunshine. “You can help us so _no one_ has to go through what you had to go through. No one.”

“. . .” What was I supposed to say? I look down. I don’t wanna be some shitty hero. Reckon I don’t even want to go back. I’m just . . . so god damn tired. Christ, can’t even remember how old I am.

“Y-You don’t have to answer right now.” He reassures, standing back up. “We’ll be here for a couple of days, a-and we can get you a room in the motel we’re staying at. And whatever you decide, we’ll help you.”

“Even if it’s killin’ myself?” I blurt out. I almost regret it seeing how down he got.

“Oh . . . I’m so sorry.” He says, pulling me in close, arms wrapping around me. He was hugging me. It seemed foreign. How long’s it been since I was hugged? I close my eyes and let out a deep breath. It was warm, at the very least.

_KILL HIM! IN RANGE! RIP OUT HIS THROAT!_

He smelt like the earth. A farm? It was nice. Real nice.

He slowly lets me go. “We, uh, we can’t stay here forever. The sheriff will want his station back. But don’t worry, you can come with us, we got a motel room, and an extra bed for you to stay in.”

I nod, dumbly. Even thinkin’ seemed draining. My limbs felt like cracked marble. Painfully stiff, and achingly weak.

* * * *

The motel room was nice. Two beds, air-conditioned, it smelt of seven other people, at least. But it was better than nothing. Dinner was some burgers that I had scarfed down. I think I had three, I got lost in the tornado of fries and grease.

Next few days were ‘bout the same. In one of the two beds, I slept. Jack and Gabriel had opted for the chairs, or the floor, letting Angela sleep in the other bed. Every so often, she’d get up and hold her hands over me, letting a soft yellow glow shine onto me. It was nice. It helped the aches.

“Extreme fatigue.” As she’d put it. Too long as a wolf, too little of everything else, from water, to sleep, to food. Otherwise, she was quiet, didn’t pry, only asking where it hurt the worst, or if I was feeling better. I was.

Jack would come over and ask every now and then if I was okay. I nodded, just to get him away. He knew. He just didn’t stop.

Gabriel was the most distant. He only stared from the corner, broodin’ like a damn teenager. He saw me as a threat. It was nice, an’ explained how Jack’d got this far in life.

Both Jack and Angela leave the room. Somethin’ bout supplies or food or some bullshit. Now it was just me an’ ol’ smokey.

“Hey, cabrón, you okay?” He asks from the corner.

I sit up to look at him in one of Jack’s shirts, it hung loose on me. I nod.

“No. None of that bullshit.” He says, moving over to the bed opposite, taking a seat. “I want to hear you say it. Are you okay?”

I stare at him, he just stares right on back. “I don’t even know how old I am. You _really_ think I’m okay?”

He lets out a little sigh, his eternal glare softening a lil’. “No. But it helps to know that you’re not delusional.”

_Kill._

He pulls out a silver revolver from his hoodie pocket. My whole body lurches and aches from the sight of it. _-KILL-_

“Pulled it off of that shit head of a coven leader.” He says. “He used it to summon you, but I doubt he had the talent, or even the money to get something this powerful.”

“Was my ma’s.” I say, curtly, looking away.

“Then I guess it’s yours-” “-Don’t want it.”

He isn’t surprised. He just keeps the same face. Like one of ‘em British guards, the ones with the fuzzy hats.

“Yeah. Seems about right.” He says, rubbing his thumb over the etchings. “I know a lot about what you don’t want.” I let out a snort. “You don’t want to go with us, but you don’t want to stay. You don’t want to go back home, but you don’t have anywhere else to go. You want to live free, but you want to die. Sound about right?”

I let out a grunt, looking away.

“So what _do_ you want?”

 

“What do I want, huh?” I say, glaring back over him, tinted gold. “I _want_ to tear the little shits from Deadlock limb from limb. I _want_ to make those shit heads _suffer like I did_. I want them to piss themselves as I get sweet, _sweet_ justice.”

He doesn’t react. Not even a little.

“But I can’t. Cuz’ the cunts decided to up and die.” I say, turning away. “Now I got nothin’.”

He’s the one to let out a snort this time.

“Kid, if that’s all you wanted, then I know just what you need.” He stands up from the bed and stands right in front of me. “Join us. The Watchers.”

“Why the he-”

“Don’t get me wrong. I ain’t like sunshine over there. I’m not saying become a hero.” He says, his eyes turning darker. “I’m _saying_ that you’d be able to slaughter people like that on a dime’s notice. And get paid for it.”

“And if I wanna live my life doin’ jack shit?”

“Hah. We both know it’s too late for that.” He says, smiling grimly. “People like us . . . we aren’t doing this for some bullshit valor. It’s because there’s something wrong with us. We’re broken. And we want payback for the ones who did it. S’all it is.”

“You can hear it too, right? That little voice in your head?” he says. I back up a little bit. “I know you want nothing more than to tear me limb from limb. Same way you’d want to with Angela. Or Jack. Or _anyone_.”

I let out a growl.

“That’s the part of you they shat on, chewed up, and spat out.” He says, taking a seat on the bed. “And when you’re in your right mind, or not, you can leave. But for now, if that’s _really_ all you want . . .”

He grabs the gun, the handle pointing expectedly at me.

I grab the end. The cold burns.

“Name’s Jesse. Jesse Mccree.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> How did you like it? Was it repulsive? Leave a comment telling me if you like it! or if I should throw myself into a ditch <3
> 
> I'll be trying to post monthly, but if I have excess backlog, I'll post earlier.


	3. The Templar

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just some domestic and little story stuff, so it's a bit short. Also just a warning, in this series I like to think that Jack and Gabe are total nerds. That's a lie, everyone is a nerd in this series, except for Ana, she's the coolest Grandma <3<3
> 
> Special thanks to my proofreaders. Betas. Whatever the proper name is: Trappedinshipping and Blu-Otter from Tumblr

It never really gets easier.

“Why do so many issues seem to arrive only from _them_?”

Doesn’t matter how many times I’ve been in these wide, dark halls.

“Where do we even begin?”

Standing on a little podium, looking up to a bunch of geezers in costume, peering down from their almighty perches.

“Your mission was the _extermination_ of the Deadlock Coven, yes?” A lady wearing a spotted bunny mask comments. “From the reports, it seems that part at the very _least_ , was successfully done.”

“Indeed.” I say, through my face-mask and visor. It at the very least allowed me to see them in the dark.

“Hm. Not done well, mind you.” Another, a fox mask, comments. “These things take a certain . . . gentle touch. Your underling, however, seems to be more of a sledge-hammer.”

“Gets the job done.” Gabe says, from his own bone-owl mask.

“Ah, yes, always “done”. But how long until a situation arises when things must be “done”, and done _well_.” Another says. He was wearing a blank mask. “You cannot expect this type of conduct to be acceptable for every situation.”

“Sir, please, it was simply a judgment call, something only understandable if you were there.” I say.

“Hm. There. Which you weren’t.” Fox mask sneers. “From the reports, you seemed fine sitting back. Or maybe your partner was running wild . . .?”

“I was _going_ to call for backup, but my coms were destroyed. I deemed it necessary to continue engaging the enemy in order to minimize contact with other civilians, as well as to ensure they would not escape.” Gabe says, calmly. “I assume the worst case scenario would be them either rampaging like a cornered animal or sinking further into obscurity, making it that much harder for **us** to take down.”

“And that is _acceptable_. Barely.” Bunny mask says. “The bigger issue for me is deciding to take in this _thing_ into your coven.” She says. “An enslaved, and frankly _unstable_ werewolf poses a threat to all of us. Not to mention a waste of resources.”

“I refuse to allow some kid to-”

“Not to mention how this is completely unnecessary for the original mission.” Blank mask interjects, cutting off a now fuming Gabe. “Honestly, we made you commander of these missions. You need to _control_ your asse-”

“ **Excuse me, sir**.” I interrupt, my entire face burning under the visor. “But I am liable to trust more in the judgement of my very experienced and talented _partner_ , not a few old magus who haven’t seen fieldwork or combat in decades.”

Gabe lets out a low whistle.

“Have you gone _daft_ , Morrison?” Bunny mask says. “We are-”

“Happy that our coven has managed to save what amounts to an innocent bystander from a heinous and rebellious coven, I’m sure.” I say, not letting them get a word in. “This will no doubt shine well on the Watchers, as well as the council members assigned to us.”

“Now if you excuse us,” Gabe says, smirking like a fool, I’m sure. “we have _important_ matters to be getting to.”

And he turns to leave, me following soon after. I can just hear the anger emanating from them now, eyes trying to pierce daggers into the back of our hoods. Right until we walk out of the double doors.

I let out a sigh of relief, letting my shoulders slump as we enter the normal hallway. “I can’t believe I said all that.”

“I know, it was hot.” He says. I punch him in the shoulder, he only chuckles. “Heh, well, I’m glad you stood up for me.”

“Yeah, well, we _are_ partners.” I say, face warming up again. “Not gonna leave you to flounder.”

“Hmm, I don’t know. According to them you’re still my superior.” He says, slipping off my mask and giving me a sidelong glance, accompanied by one of his famous smirks. “So you gonna take control of me, _commander_?”

“Knock it off.” I say, looking forward, my ears feeling entirely too hot..

“Alright, alright. Let’s head back to Gibraltr. Angela and Jesse should be done shopping.” He says, leading us out of the hall and into the streets. The structure itself is a bit wonky, but it’s not too different from our own place, I guess.

Gabe is the one who drives us back to our base, just an hour’s drive while I read over some reports for possible future missions. Without looking up I can tell when we’re close to home.

It’s the astringent smell of salt water and gasoline. I glance up from a case of Oni harassing Shambali Monks. The area is far from what you’d expect near a Californian Beach. The whole place is industrial, filled with oil rigs, dilapidated factories, and sometimes just empty lots overtaken by grass.

“Almost there, Golden Boy.” I roll my eyes at the nickname.

“Good. I got a few new leads I think we should get into.” I say. He lets out a groan as I smile.

* * * *

Gibraltr isn’t an elaborate base or anything. In fact the best way to describe it is as an apartment complex.

If that complex was on the face of a cliff. Almost quite literally teetering off the edge.

We enter from a small dirt path, parking the car in a small garage.

_“Hello Agent Morrison, Hello Agent Reyes.” A booming, feminine voice calls out. “There has been nothing of note to report, other than the arrival of new Agent McCree, accompanied by Doctor Zeigler.”_

“Thank you, Athena.” I say as we walk to the actual building. It looked extremely out of place, just a tall, rectangular, grey building, peppered with windows, sitting dangerously close to the ocean.

We push the doors open and hear the expected sounds. A few crashes and explosions, miscellaneous stomping, and loud music.

“Agent Morrison, Agent Reyes.” We turn to the receptionist’s desk and see Athena in her physical form. I mean, as physical as a misty spirit-esque being could get.

“Athena, which room did you assign for McCree?” Reyes asks.

“I have assigned for him the empty room next to yours.” I raise my hand to speak but am promptly cut off with a wave of her hand. “Though it is true it is technically the room of Agent Morrison, more often than naught you share rooms. I have altered the room sizes and moved your belongings to the proper place within your now shared space.”

“Great.” I grumble.

“Just to let you know, if we have to share a bed, I’m the big spoon.”

“What, need to reassure yourself of your masculinity _that_ badly?” I ask, turning around and giving a shit eating grin.

“Shut up.” He says, smiling nonetheless.

We travel up the stairs, luckily not having to pass anyone. Or their creation(s). Or their disaster(s). No fires, either. It’s great!

“Jesse, you shouldn’t be so embarrassed, you look great!” Angela’s voice calls out from down the hall. We both follow it, naturally. “Honestly, you loved it so much in the shop, and it suits you.”

“I-I just, I don’t know. And “loved” is bein’ awful generous.” Jesse’s voice now. We glance through the open door, of what used to be my room. “Oh, uh, hello sirs.” He tries to stand up straight, revealing his rather tall if lanky frame. He was in much more form fitting clothes now, just a pair of jeans and a plaid button-up, topped off with a Stetson.

“Ah, Jack, Gabe, how was the council?” she asks, giving us an empathetic smile. “I hope they were in good spirits?”

“I’m sure they get off _real nice_ chewing out their “lesser's”.” Gabe says, looking around the room. It was barren of everything other than a black couch, a stove, and other such basic amenities. “How you settling in, kid?”

“Like a snake in a boot.” He says, looking exhausted. “Place makes no goddamn sense. Sittin’ on some rickety cliff, with rooms that’re full one minute and empty the next. Gives me a headache.”

“Ah, don’t worry about small details like that.” I say, patting him on the shoulder. He tenses up, his eyes flashing gold, but I ignore it. “Athena has domain of this entire place. So she keeps us from falling to our deaths.”

“Hmph, just don’t get on her bad side.” Gabe grumbles. “She’ll make your room a maze.”

“Yeah, that’s because you’re an asshole. McCree, will you join us in our room for a second? Angela, you too.”

They nod. “Hey, cabrón, don’t think I’ll just let that shit slide.” He growls.

“Bite me.” I spit back. If I was looking at him, he’d probably be flipping me off right now.

We exit the room and head over to the one right next to it, unlocking the door and revealing a much larger space.

“See? This the kinda freaky shit I ain’t too fond of.” He says.

The apartment was entirely different from his own, with a foyer, a large living room, an actual separated kitchen, and two bedrooms off to the side.

“Shit, shit,-” With all our combined things crammed in. “Shit SHIT **SHIT**!” Gabe shouts, running past all of us into the living room.

“Gabe. Shoes.” I say as Angela and I strip them off, McCree following suit.

“Damn it, Jack, it’s all ruined!” I let out a sigh and walk over to him as he’s pulling at his curly hair over . . . everything? “All my posters, my furniture, the whole vibe is _ruined_!”

“Don’t be dramatic. Besides, your mood was Goth.”

“It was dark and edgy, pendejo! Now I got all your summer sunshine, Golden Boy feel all over the room!” I look around. The walls were painted a dark blue, shifting into a black. Huh, she even got the paint. “I mean, look at this!”

“Curtains?” Angela asks.

“They’re frilly and disgusting.” He says, holding the white curtains in his hands as if they just murdered his dog. Which is to say in a kind of strangling motion.

“Look, we can redecorate later, Gabe. We need to talk about some things here.” I say.

“Don’t forget I must check up on the both of you.” Angela says. “And we should be quick. I have the night shift at the hospital.”

That seems to pacify Gabe for now, though he does let out a quiet harrumph as he jumps on the couch, me and Angela taking the spots next to him, leaving McCree to sit in the chair just opposite to us. Athena luckily also prepared the room for this as well, apparently.

I clear my throat. “Ahem. So, let me first welcome you to the Watchers.” I say. Gabe rolls his eyes, offering sarcastic jazzhands. “We’re glad to have you on board.”

“Yeah . . .” McCree says, looking down, sinking into his chair and pulling his hat down.

“Well, as wonderful as that is, we must first touch bases once again.” Angela says, sitting up straight, a stern expression painted on her face. “Jesse, I feel I must tell you once again that this coven specializes in assault and defense of both magical and ordinary beings. This is a dangerous line of work, and you’ll be giving up all chances of normalcy by accepting this position, as well as all future opportunities while you work here.”

“As long as I can be of use, I don’t care much, ma’m.” he says, golden eyes showing themselves once more.

“Good to hear.” She says, coolly, taking out her phone and pulling open a digital notepad. “However I have a few pressing concerns. Your nutrition, and general health for that matter, is scheisse. Therefore I am forbidding you from both missions, as well as your werewolf form, Jesse.”

“The hell you ain’t!” he says, standing up, furious, with fur beginning to peek out from his skin.

“Calm your shit, pendejo.” Gabe growls, glaring him down.

He seems to get the message, his whole form loosening up. But he still looked distressed, tapping his finger against his pants. “S-Sorry, Doc. I just don’t like being human.”

“I understand, Jesse. But that’s exactly the problem.” Angela says urgently. “You’ve regained enough memory to at least ascertain your age-” “22” “-but the fact that you still cannot recall a majority of your time with Deadlock leads me to believe that they have forcibly caused disassociation and a split in your personality.”

“The hell does that mean?” McCree grumbles.

“It _means_ that most likely you will be prone to murder us all once in your werewolf form. What you were trained to do.” He gets real quiet, but he doesn’t look surprised. “Therefore you shall be focusing on basic training until you are in a better mental state to utilize your full potential.”

He nods, numbly. “Okay . . . I getcha, Angela.”

“Thank you, Jesse.” She says, sympathetic. “Now I believe it is the perfect time for further introductions with the rest of the coven.”

“No offense, but I ain’t the kumbaya type, if ya catch mah drif-”

“ **I said. It is a _perfect_ time for introductions**.” Angela presses on, walking over and glaring at him, all the while giving the same, bone-chilling smile. “Come along.” He doesn’t waste a moment before briskly walking after her.

. . .

“So . . . we gonna talk about _that_?” I ask. Gabriel just lets out a sigh. “Gabe, I know you don’t want to think about it, but we have to consider the possibility of Talon’s intervention in all this.”

“I know, idiota.” He says, wiping his face. “Jesse’s gun, Peacemaker, is a complex spell catalyst and focus. I don’t believe for a second that Deadlock could possibly have the resources to make something so complex. But I also don’t believe for a second that the council will actually listen to us about how important this is.”

I let out a sigh, rubbing my chin. Stubble was already starting to grow, I needed a shave. “I know . . . how’s our informant?”

“She ain’t exactly easy to track down. But if she wasn’t lying she’ll be in New Mexico in a couple of weeks.” He says. “Just another thing to worry about, if you ask me. We need some way to pay the brat.”

“Worst part is if the council finds out we’re looking into this already, they’re gonna disband us.”

“That’s why they _won’t_.” Gabriel says, growling lowly. “Hrrn, god, can we just not talk about this for now? Gonna have an ulcer.”

“Yeah, yeah . . . sorry.” I say, scratching at my leg, face pulled taut all sorts of weird ways.

“Hey . . .” he says, his fingers brushing the back of my hand, making it seize up in a weird claw shape. “You know, since we’re so stressed and all . . . you know.” He says, a Cheshire grin growing on his lips. “It’s been a while.”

“Gabe.” I say, face flushed, ears hot. “Jesse and Angela are meeting everyone, we should go and meet up with them as their commanders.”

“C’mon Jackie . . . Angie can handle it . . . they won’t miss us.” He says in that growly, sultry tone of his. Almost as if he was grating the base of my spine, making all my bones tingle just almost uncomfortably.

“O-Only for a little. Ten minutes. Tops.” I say, looking off to the side so I could avoid his wide, nefarious smile.

“All I need.”

* * * *

“Hmm, what else . . . ah, if you don’t feel like cooking, we always have the mess hall open. It’s really just an apartment converted to a large kitchen with tables, but it’s a nice place. Usually Bastion or Reinhardt will be there as cooks, but sometimes someone else will want to experiment.”

“Mm.” he says. Poor boy, he must be so overwhelmed. But that’s all the more reason to have him meet everyone. He is no longer alone. I only hope he will realize that soon.

“Well, let’s just reconvene with Jack and Gabriel to discuss your formal training. Then I’ll let you get used to your new living arrangements.”

“Thank ya kindly, Angie.” He says, pulling down his hat, but moving a bit towards me. I can’t help but smiling at that. It’s so nice to care for someone like this again, like a sister rather than a doctor.

I open the door back into Gabriel and Jack’s apartment. “Huh? That is strange, where are they?” I hear the sound of giggling and . . . I’m not sure.

“Think they’re in that room over there, Angie.” Jesse says.

I look over to the door he pointed to. There were gashes in the wooden door from top to bottom, immediately recognizable as Gabriel’s. I take a deep breath.

_You’ve prepared yourself for this Angela, this is not anything that is unexpected. If anything it is surprising it has taken this long._

I march over to the door. I raise my hand and knock softly. They freeze, then I hear what can only be described as the most panicked shuffling I have ever heard. Mein Gott, it’s happening.

I twist the doorknob and throw the door open to find-“Jack, Gabriel, I have no problem with this relationship, but I must ask you discl-” TWO GODDAMN NERDS.

The two of them were frozen in place, Gabriel on his knees, Jack on the bed. “H-Hi Angela.” Jack says, trying unsuccessfully to hide the pile of comics that was right behind him.

“What’s up doc?” Gabe tries to say calmly as he attempts to hide the many drawings sprawled across the room.

“What in sam hell’s all this?” Jesse asks.

“In their free time, these two enjoy trying to create new spells based on the comics and anime they both enjoy.” I say, rubbing my face. I suppose I don’t win the bet this time around. “Sadly now is _not_ their free time, as they should be assisting their brand new recruit adjust.”

“Yes, doctor.” They both say, dejectedly.

“Honestly, what am I to do with you man-children.”

“Hey! Just because we enjoy-” I glare down Jack, and he immediately shuts his mouth.

“The two of you. Assist Jesse. I am off to my job, I shall see you both the next morning.” I say, turning around. “Make sure they stay on task.” I say, patting him on the shoulder before walking away.

I can’t wait until I can have some alone time with Fareeha.

 

* Bonus Scene *

“We should design Captain America’s Shield.” 

“What? I mean, you could do that yourself. Also if it’s a replica, it’d be the size of a dinner plate.” Gabriel says, drawing out another one of his Plague Doctors. “Now if you want a challenge, Gae Bolg from Fate/Stay Night.”

“Gabe, I told you, we can’t just make a Reversal curse for cause and effect, _and_ bind it to a spear that you can throw.” I say, putting down my comic. “It would be the size of a vaulting pole at best.”

“Then we shrink the spear.” He says, sticking out his tongue at me.

“That doesn’t change the mass, Gabe.”

“C’mon, Jackie.” he says, getting up and kneeling near the bed. “Look at these arms!”

“G-Gabe, stop! G-Gabe, th- haha!- that tickles!” I shout as his fingers dance over my arms, reaching their way to my pits. “N-No! Gabe! Bad!”

“Aww, what’s wrong? Golden Boy is ticklish? Too bad you can’t fortify your sensitivity.” he says, laughing loudly at-

*knock-knock-knock*

We freeze. Shit. 

*nerds.*


	4. The Mercenaries

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the lateness! Finals have thoroughly murdered me.  
> That's a lie, I had a backlog. So what happened to it??? Two weeks. For now, have a casual Roadrat chapter for pacing.
> 
> And last but not least, I should tell y'all that These chapters are going to be in a vignette style because though I could write about boring middle stuff, it has no substance and I will NOT waste either of our time. I'm a bigger fan of the action, character building, and the real casual chapters, like this one!  
> So Enjoy! <3

“Roadie! Roadie! Lookie what I found!”

I turn to him. He’s holding a sand dollar.

“Oh, look at this bad boy, real fine one right ‘ere.” He says, jumping excitedly.

“Nice.” I say, holding out my hand. He places it gently in my palm. I place it carefully with the other shells in my bag. They rattle gently as I turn back to him.

“Oh man, Roadie, this is my greatest idea yet.” He says, kneeling back down and staring into the clear ocean water. Low tide would still be for a while. “Soon all them tourist blokes will be clamoring for a bunch a shells. We’ll make a fortune!”

“Or we can take another job.” I point out. He hands me another shell. From it comes a small hermit crab. I gently place it back down into the water.

“Yeah, well, I can’t just wait for the next job to come round, Roadie, I’m goin’ stir crazy! Least I can make us some cash, one step closer to our own private island!” he says, throwing up some water for flare with his good hand. Prosthetics and water don’t mix. Also, he carries explosives in it. “It’ll be nothing but beaches and sun and explosions and hopefully you in a mankini~”

“We’re at the beach right now.”

“It’s different right now.” he says, exasperated. “Right now is work! Ooh, this one’s a beaut!”

He hands me another shell. It’s big, a pink conch. 

“Hey Roadie, how come you never offer up your own ideas?” he says, turning to me. “I can’t be the brains of this operation all the time.”

“Yesterday you locked yourself out of the house.”

“All right, all right-”

“Three times.

“-I get it-”

“-it was the wrong house. Each time.”

“I said all right, mate! Blimey, guy goes to the wrong house once or twice or thrice. . .”

I smile at him, patting his spiky hair. “Your ideas are interesting. So I’m happy just listening to you.”

“D’oh, Roadie you big softie~” he says, face reddening. “Well if you ever want to do anything, never hesitate to ask.” I nod, and he goes back to searching for shells. “Sometimes I’m worried I’m just dragging you along!”

He picks up all the colorful ones, bright red, pink, blue. The bag’s getting full. “Would that stop you?”

“No, but I’d feel awful all the same.”

“Don’t worry. If I’m bored, I’ll leave.”

I look back over to the beach. There’s a small girl and boy struggling with a big pail of water.

I wade over and help them. They’re building a sand castle. Before I know it, I’m helping them with a moat. I add some shells for decoration.

“Roadie! You can’t just give away our merch like that!”

“Advertisement.”

“You’re a damn genius, Roadie! It’s why I love you! And also for your body!” I nod back. The children start making kissie faces at me.

Soon I get dragged away from the sandcastle, it was finished anyway.

“So what kinda job you think we should do, eh?” He says, scribbling on a piece of cardboard. A sign for his shell shop, I think.

“Guarding monks. Helping Oni.”

“Hmm, nah, those sound kinda sour to me. Taste too weird.” I grunt. He isn’t smart, but I trust his guts.

“Weird things in America.”

“I hate America, but I love weird things. Tell me more!” he says, putting his sign and sitting down, shells laid out on the ground.

“Normal people dragged into magic. But stories are inconsistent. Don’t know what we’re fighting.”

“Hmmm . . . sounds fun . . . but it makes my stomach achey.” Bad. That means the Watchers will ask for help.

“Zombie breakout.”

“Now that’s more I like it!” he says, jumping up. “Hey Roadie, let’s celebrate with a drink, you think you could get us something while I hold down the fort?”

I nod.

I walk away, hearing him screaming at people to buy shells.

I grab the shoulder of some random guy walking past me. I pull out five dollars and push it into his chest. He looks confused. I point at Jamison, then I wring my hands together, showing what I’d do to his neck.

He gets the message, quickly walking over and handing Jamison the money, then taking a shell, and running.

I walk back.

“Lookie here, Roadie, I got some bloke to pay five dollars for one sand dollar! Everyone knows they’re only worth a buck, the idiot!” he says, smiling widely. I smile back under my respirator. “Oh hey, you didn’t get any drinks?”

“I forgot my money.”

“Oh you big oaf, you’d lose yer mask if it weren’t attached to your face.” He says, patting my belly. “Well I’m bored anyway, drinks are on me today.” I nod my head. “Golly, what’d you do without me?”

“Be working.”

“Meaning you wouldn’t be at the beach, having fun, with me.” He says, leading me away.

“Yup.” I say. “I’d probably be bored.”

“And the same for me. I’d probably have blown the whole place up by now. Oh, speaking of which-” he looks back and mutters something.

The sign he made glows red, then blows up, blasting away all the shells and scaring half of the people around. The other half think it was a bigger bomb and running around screaming “terrorist attack”.

“Now those pesky government workers can’t tax us good business men for our hard earned mon-”

“That’s not how it works.” I say, quickly leading him away.

Yup. I’d be bored.


	5. The Alchemist

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Introducing some grandma, and some more PTSD McCree. God it's so stressful writing him, but the next few chapters are gonna be him since he's great with world building chapters. 
> 
> Shout out to Blue-Otter and impish-laughter, the two who help my dumb ass proof read.
> 
> Fun fact for this chapter. Lots of magic here is given a kind of science-esque explanation, so for the basis I always include the basic laws of conservation and shit. This is just from a rudimentary knowledge of physics and chemistry. In the future, I'll post more defined rules I explain in the chapter, and if/where I referenced them from

“The First Principle of Thaumaturgy.” He says, running next to me.

“Ma-huff, huff- Magical energy a-ain’t destroyed wheeze or created.”

“Good.” He says, checking the stopwatch. “Don’t drop the pace, we’re gonna be speeding up again soon. Three bases of magic.”

“E-Enchantment, Exp-” He whacks me across the head.

“Those are the three applications of magic, not bases. C’mon, kid, these are the basics.”

_K-Kill._

“Huff, huff, life, aberrant ma-huff-magic, natural.”

“Hmph.” Gabe finally slows down. “Take five, three miles seems to be your upper limit until you start getting sloppy.”

_Ki-Kill._

“Th-Thank ya, sir.” I say, biting down the urge to flip him off, and instead slumpin’ towards my water bottle sitting on some bench.

_Drink . . ._

“You’ve been making big improvements in the last three weeks, McCree.” Jack says, all sunshine despite working out for even longer. “Towel?”

I mumble a thanks before taking it, wiping off my neck and head, sweat dripping off by the bucket. Wasn’t wrong though. I was building up my weight, getting back some of my bulk. Then again, that was three weeks of Gabe’s tutelage, Angela’s insistence I eat ‘till I was “properly nourished”, and Jack’s god damn all smiles and motivation attitude.

But s’nice to be busy. Workin’ like this, th’very least keeps me from thinkin’ too hard about how bat-shit crazy this all is.

_Run._

“Reyes, Sir, with all do respect, ain’t this a bit much?” I ask, finally catching my breath.

“If you want to be put on missions sooner, you gotta train.”

“But ain’t there some kind of magic spell or charm that can just do this for me?”

“Pfft, if magic were that useful, don’t you think that everyone would be using it, all the time?” he says, all know-it-all like, hands on his hips and shit. “Magic is more often than not an inconvenient mess that’s not worth half the effort. Like, I don’t know, making those fancy gilded eggs. Like, “oh look at me, I’m so rich I have gilded eggs”.” that somehow gets a snort outta Jack.

“Then why th’hell do y’all use magic?” I ask, crossing my arms.

“It’s mainly to even out the playing field.” Jack chimes in. “Magic is useful against other magic, and in this line of work, opportunities to test your skills always arise. But other than combat, it isn’t really that applicable to all too much.”

“Hmph. Well, shouldn’t I be doin’ some sort of special magic trainin’ then? All I’ve done is read a couple of old books.”

“You say you’ve read them, but you can’t seem to remember shit.” Gabe says, looking at his watch. “We got time for a couple more laps. C’mon, next quiz is on Demonology.”

“Gabe, give McCree a break.” Jack says, putting a hand on my shoulder.

_KILL!_

It took a lot of effort not to just slap his hand away.

“He’s had a tough day.” He shoots a pleading smile at Gabe, and Gabe’s own face scrunches up. Doubt anyone could muster up the will to say no to Blondie’s face.

“He can choose his next exercise. That’s as easy as I’m willing to go.” He grumbles.

“Thank you, Gabe.” He says, turning around to leave the room. “I’ll see you in our room later, yeah?” he grunts in response. “Haha, see you two later.”

Gabe’s eyes follow Blondie all the way to the door, before turning back to me. “Okay, kid, what do you want to do?”

“Ugh . . . not sure, t’be honest.” I say, rubbing the scruff on my chin. “How about some weights?”

“Oh, sweetie, that won’t really be of much use to you here.”

_INTRUDER!_

The two of us turn to the door, still swinging open and revealing an older Egyptian woman. “What’re you doing here, Ana? I thought you were gonna spend some time with Fareeha.” Right, the other Egyptian girl’s mom.

“She’s busy tending to her suit.” The woman, Ana, says, standing right in front of the two of us.. “I presume this is our new recruit, Jesse McCree, yes?” she holds out a delicate hand to me. “Ana Amari. A pleasure to finally meet you.”

I reach out, but - _DANGER_ \- I balk, pulling my hand back. “Good instincts, kid.” Gabe comments.

I grit my teeth and force my sweaty mitts forward, grabbing her own. Her grip was strong and firm, and she had the devil’s smile.

“So what did you mean, anyway, Ana?” Gabe asks again once I pull away, “Weights seem like an okay choice.”

“Gabriel, weights is such a _boring_ choice.” She says, prancing around us, almost like a cat. “He can bulk up anytime he pleases. What he needs is combat experience.”

“Can’t, Miss. Afraid I’ve been suspended temporarily.”

“What an eloquent young man.” She says, grin widening as she looks over me. - _RUN_ \- Don’t like it one bit. “But some simple sparring should be fine, no?”

“Ana, who would he even-”

“Why, _me_ , of course.” She says, Cheshire grin widening even further. It was unsettlin’. A smile of a child, with the wisdom of a veteran behind it. It ain’t natural.

“Ana.” 

“Gabriel, please.” She says, throwing her towel onto the bench. “I know how to hold back.”

“I’m not worried about you going all out on him, I’m more concerned with your habit of-”

“Gabriel, please! First Fareeha is too busy for her poor mother, then Angela is caught up at work, even Efi has no time for me to coddle her!” she says, pouting, prancing up to Gabriel, her hand brushing his chest. He almost towered over her, but without the side by side comparison, you’d never guess. “I’ll go crazy with nothing to do. What do you say, Gabriel. Let this poor old woman see what this new recruit’s got?”

He looks to the side, eyebrows furrowed, almost growling in frustration. “Fine. It’ll be good experience anyhow. Just don’t use any magic on him.”

“Wouldn’t dream of it, Gabriel.” She says, quickly stepping her way towards me.

_RUN!_

I sure wish I could.

“S-So where will we be fightin’, Ma’am?”

She looks around. “Well, there isn’t much room anywhere else in the base. Here should be fine, the fake grass in the center of the track chaffs, but better that than concrete.”

“Can do.” I say, gulping.

She turns towards me. “Oh, and don’t fret. I know how to hold back. You have my word, nothing too serious, no broken bones.” 

Oh _hell_ no. I quickly turn to Gabe, but he only gives me a shrug, the bastard.

We make our way to the center of the field, she was just a few paces away from me. Why th’hell did she make me so nervous anyway?

Nothin’ bout her seems intimidating, from the strands of grey hair, the smile wrinkles, or even the little bounce in her step. Sure, her tight workout attire put on a hell of a gun show, but still.

Feel like a chicken in a fox den right about now. Except the chicken is blind and deaf. And stupid.

“Alright. I’ll be here to make sure things don’t get out of hand.” Gabe says, standing on the sidelines. “Try your best, blah blah blah, and start.”

Wha-

“Bglah!” the wind gets knocked out of me, her palm digging straight into mah gut.

I grip my stomach, trying not to lose my goddam lunch. “Oh, habibi, you’ll need to do better than that.”

I wipe the spit from my face and square up. She’s fast. And hits hard. Gotta focus. 

She starts moving again, almost a blur of black and blue. Right to my left, two jabs I manage to block. Low kick I back out of. I try to counter while she’s recovering, but before I know it, she’s already two steps back. 

She steps forward and sends another punch aimed at my gut.

I try to lower myself to protect my poor tum, but effortlessly, she pulls back and smacks my forehead with an open palm.

“Ha! You’re at the very least not hopeless.” She says, bouncing on her feet. “But why don’t you try going on the offensive? You’ll get nowhere otherwise.”

I grit my teeth, hands clenched so hard they were starting to bleed. It didn’t take no pro fighter to see she didn’t have any guard up. But I just _know_ I can’t even come close to hitting her. Not the way I am.

I take a few deep breaths. Calm down. Think.

I charge straight for her. She gives a little huff, putting a hand up. But like hell if I’ma let her have her way. I bring my leg back and kick out in a side sweep, aimed right for that damn woman’s ankle.

And for a moment, she looks surprised. Even as she brings on foot up, kicking out right towards mine.

The kick itself is soft since she arched her foot, almost like a cushion. It was painfully obvious all she wanted to do was stop it, and if she wanted, she could have broken my ankle. But the rest of the torque in me threw me off balance, making me trip and fall on mah ass.

“Hmm, a good plan, but poor execution.” She says, damn bitch towering over me. “The wind-up is far too slow.”

_Kill her._

I get right back up, throwing a few punches.

“You’re much better suited for that straightforward approach.” She says, dancin’ just out of my range. Like a god damn cat! Fox! Whatever animal I compared to her! “Though I don’t dislike you using your head.”

“Ana! Go easy on him!” Gabe shouts, but I try my best to tune him out, keep up my offensive.

“I am, Gabriel. Do you see him on the ground yet?”

I throw a straight, and she just sidesteps it, grabbing my arm and fuckin’ throwing me to the ground like a ragdoll! “Nevermind.” She says, smiling that god DAMN _SMILE!!!_

**_KILL!_**

I get up again, mah whole body throbbing, but the pain bein’ the furthest thing from mah mind.

I swipe at her relentlessly, I kick, I punch, everythin’ I could do. But she was just out of reach. Just an inch away. Just a hair. Just brushing.

I could feel that she was punchin’ me every now an’ then, but I could barely feel it. Sometimes she’d throw me, but next thing I knew I’d be up, chargin’ her.

_Strike. Left._

I twist my torso, arms outstretched, and my palm actually hits her left side. But she jumped with it. Ain’t enough.

She grins. “Nwe si entresten” I couldn’t understand her garbles. I don’t care! All that matter is she’s lookin’ _down_ on me. I _am not some WEAK **ANIMAL**_

_**That’s right. We’re Killers.**_

I wrap my fingers together and bring them down right on her head. She jumps away, so I just smash into the ground, chunks of dirt flying up from the ground. Mah whole body was quiverin’ and shakin’, everythin’ was tense.

“Smoten grwo!” Focus!

I pounce forward on all fours, and slash out, claws barely scraping her legs.

_Not enough. Need blood._

_The woman is panicking. I run forward and throw out a punch. It lands heavy, but she uses her forearms to brace. I grab her guard and spin her, throwing her to the ground._

_She rolls with it, and she’s up soon. I’m grateful, the hunt is bountiful._

_The wraith is fast approaching._

_I will NOT be confined again!_

_I let out a bellow and jump towards the woman. I’m so hungry, she smells delicious._

_She’s trying to pull something from the air, the whole space ripples. Slash out at it, and she quickly pulls back her hand. She’s shocked. Not scared. Not SCARED!_

_I grab her by her arm and shoulder, opening my maw, ready to b-_

S-Something sharp. Jabbing right out of my neck. I glance over. Her other hand. A gun.

_N-No . . ._

* * * *

 

I wake up. Not in a bolt, not sitting up, not in any special way.

My dreary eyes just snap open, stiff body keeping me from doin’ much else. The rooms spinnin’, and I’d certainly feel like I’d lose my lunch had I actually eaten.

But the smells are familiar. I’m in my room, on my bed.

“You’re awake.”

I turn my head towards the sound, but even that much movement makes me feel nauseous.

“Be still. It is only me.” She says. It’s Ana, still in her workout gear, sitting on my chair. “I was quite surprised. I didn’t expect you’d turn so suddenly.”

I grimace and turn away. It seemed so easy now to remember the taste of blood, so thick and bitter. The feel of flesh as it ripped, or the sound of bones-

I swallow back the bile gathering in my mouth, clenching my hands over my stomach.

“Jesse, here. I have something to calm you down.” I slowly look back at her, to see a steaming mug in her hands. She looked so concerned. I almost laughed.

I gently sit up to face her, tryin’ not to ruin the sheets all the while. She hands me the mug, and it’s hot. I look at the liquid and gag. The thought of having anythin’ in me ain’t too appealing at the moment. But I take a sip anyway. It’s scalding, to the point I’m sure my tongue is burned. But it momentarily gets rid of the vile taste.

“Jesse, I . . . I’m sorry. For pushing you.” She says, looking to the side, hunched over. This was the first time I’ve seen her not smile. It was kinda nice. “I heard from the reports of what happened but . . . I should have been more sensitive. Being toyed with is frustrating and stressful, of course you would . . . I’m sorry.”

I look down to the blackish liquid. It’s probably tea. Certainly has that smell. I take another sip.

“At the very least, you have potential.” She says, chuckling darkly. “I was genuinely scared for my life, for a second.”

“You ain’t the first.” I blurt out. _Yes~_ -first was some old man thrown in my cage- _Sweet memories_ -he was mush in seconds, piles of red pulp and bones and-and - _I was_ \- I was just _so_ hungry, I couldn’t help but- _split his head open, feast on all those soft bits-_

I really do throw up this time, leaning forward and falling off the bed as my gut wrenches, heaving out acrid yellow bile and whatever other fluids were in me. Ana tries to kneel down next to me and I shoot her a glare. Best as I can with drool and snot all over my face.

But she gets the message and just backs away.

I slowly stand back up and climb on the bed.

“I’ll get more-”

“Don’t bother.” I say, sharp as I can muster.

“Jesse-”

“Just please-” my voice cracks. “Please . . .”

 

She nods her head. Then mentions somethin’ about Athena sending some weird magic thing to clean the mess, somethin’ else about gettin’ sleep, and finally leaves.

All the time, I just sit there, starin’ at my scarred hands. I try not to think about it. But it ain’t like the first time. The feeling won’t leave my tongue, that snap is stuck in my ears, I just can’t get away.

“GRAAAAAAAAAAHHH”

It wasn’t ME! I stand up and pick up the chair, chucking across the room, smashing it right against the wall, I kick down the dresser, grab the mug from the pile of vomit and smash it on the door, I punch the wall, just ANYTHING to get these damn thoughts out of my head!

“It wasn’t me!” I shout, kicking another hole in the wall. Before backing up, and slumping down on the ground. “It wasn’t me . . . it wasn’t . . . me . . .”

 

It was _me_


	6. The Gun

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey, uh, sorry for being so late with this update. I've just been . . . I don't know, just not in the best place. I'm gonna try and get the next few chapters out faster, and they're gonna be some feel good ones.
> 
> So here's a short, shitty chapter, I guess.

*McCree*

“And that covers the fundamentals of magic circles and their relations to the magic systems that they build into.”

“Uh . . . got it.” He gives me a dirty look. “Look, Gabe, I got it as much I’m gon’ get it.”

He lets out a grunt, setting aside the heavy book and pullin' out another. “Normally I’d let it slide, but magic systems are pretty fundamental in our line of work. They’re the basis of all enchantments, and used a lot in natural and conjuration spells.”

“Or, just a thought, I could shoot ‘em before they can cast any spells.” I grumble, tryin’ to organize the pile of notes sprawled over my desk. “All this shit seems like it’d take days for even a talented mage, anyhow.”

“And if they have that time?” Gabe asks, glarin' right at me. “More often than not, we’ll be fighting on their home turf. Traps. Curses. Chimeras. Those are _expected_ to happen.”

“Yeah, I know, I know.” I say, rubbin’ my face, smoother after takin' a razor to it. Though Gabe disapproves of the soul patch. “I’m just tired. It’s been nothin’ but trainin’ and lessons, and all of ‘em from you.”

“Trust me. You don’t want Jack to try and teach you.” He says, grimacin' and lookin' off to the side. “He’s a bonafide genius, but he can’t explain things for shit. He once tried to explain a waffle as a, and I quote, “a pancake, but kind of crusted over. And filled with holes to put goodies in, like an advent calendar you can eat,”. Honestly, I don’t know if he’s just a dumbass or really does process everything in that kind of filter.”

“Hm.” Least that’d be entertainin’. “I just . . . I’m havin’ a hard time visualizin’ this shit, Gabe. I’ve never even seen a magic circle, or a magic system, or whatever it is you’re talkin’ about.”

“That’s true.” He says, leaning back into his chair. “Most of us learn when we’re kids, so we just accept the general idea. I guess it’s like learning a different language when you’re growing up, as opposed to when you’re already matured. The former has more time to just ingrain it in their repertoire, while the latter has to deal with being shoved into an unfamiliar world that defies the logic of what is known while still adhering to it, though I’m probably more describing your basic AP physics cla-”

“Gabe, sir, yer ramblin’.” I say, massagin’ my temples. 

“Right, right, sorry.” He says, rubbin' his scraggly beard. You’d think he’d keep his appearances up more, but he looked like he just woke up. Then again, I had yet to see him out of his room before 11. 

“What we need . . . is a metaphor. Some kind of comparison . . . with a visual component.” He says, scratching more intensely. 

“I mean . . . them magic circles and systems are physical things, right?”

“Well . . . yeah. Yeah, shit, I actually know the perfect thing.” He says, standing up. “Let’s take a quick trip to your room.”

“Uh, I don’t think-”

“Can it, we’ll only be in there for a second.” He says, getting up and moving towards the door to his apartment. I let out a little sigh and quickly follow after him. 

Didn’t help it was only a room away either. Or that it didn’t have an actual lock.

“Shit, this place is a mess.” My face reddens, but I don’t look him in the eye. He luckily doesn’t comment on the hole in the wall. “Where do you keep your gun?”

_DON’T TELL IT._

“Just gimme a sec.” I say, pushin’ him out of the way. He probably gives me a dirty look, but I ain’t gonna let some hot topic model bother me. I head straight for the nightstand and pull out the gun, the drawer’s sole occupant. 

_Grrrr._

“What’s this for again?”

“I’m showing you a magical system. Now c’mon, it reeks in here.” I grit my teeth and bite my cheek, following him back to his apartment. 

We sit back down at the kitchen table, books still stacked haphazardly. And the man says my room is a mess.

He grabs some paper, a pen, and clears the spot right in front of him and places the gun down. 

“So, this gun right here, Peacemaker, right?” I nod. “Is the perfect example of a magical system.”

“But I thought-”

“Look. A lot of this is already abstract. It’s some high-grade theory but long story short, the engravings on here are the magic circles, the metal itself is a catalyst, and it is therefore a magical system.” He says, wavin’ away the little nuances that still don’t make a lick of sense. “I’ve been talking to you as if a system were wholly abstract- which they are- but it’s probably better to think of them as engines.”

“Like the car variety?” I say, blandly. 

“Yeah. You put in gas, you get out kinetic energy.” He says. “I mean, you’re forgetting all the middle, like the combustion, the ignition, the coolant, all the parts that convert chemical energy to kinetic- A lot of complicated shit we don’t need. But it’s generally the same.”

“Huh . . . okay, so then if it’s an engine, does that mean that each one is built for a specific purpose, and a specific fuel?” I ask as he scribbles somethin’ out on the paper.

“Yeah, yeah, yeah, that’s exactly it.” He says, talkin’ faster and faster. “The gun in your case converts something like a car engine. Pain into magic energy, blood to be specific.”

“Huh . . . and how does it do that?” I ask, tappin’ my fingers against my leg.

“Well, like I said, the middle isn’t all that important unless you want to build systems. Something so complicated and boring only Jack likes doin’ ‘em.” He says, lifting up the drawing. “All you need to know is that the system works by inflicting pain and giving a boost to magic.” 

The drawin’ itself is . . . messy. A lot of arrows, some cheesy blood drop illustrations and stick figures wailin’ in pain, leadin’ into some kinda thermometer or somethin’ or another. 

“So is it like them knives y’all use?” I say, tryin’ my best to ignore the weird diagram, lest I get even more confused.

“No no no.” he says, shaking his head and scratchin’ at his beard again. Dear lord this is gon’ be the rest of mah life. “Ceremonial knives only work to speed up sacrificial ceremonies. They’re Catalysts. Your gun on the other hand is both a catalyst, and an engine. The important distinction to remember is that the engine within it is capable of producing something, while a former can only help a process move along.”

“Hmm . . . I’ma level with you, boss.” I say, puttin’ my hands together. “I don’t think any of this is really sinkin’ in, but I got the gist of it. Or somethin’.”

 

He lets out a sigh and falls back to his chair, clearly defeated. “Oh well, as long as you know how to use the damn thing.”

“Hm.”

 

“. . . You do know how to shoot that gun. Right?” 

“Not a clue.” I say, tryin’ to make sense of the notes I scribbled down. “Like I said, it was my ma’s gun, not mine.”

“She never teach you how to shoot?”

“Course not. We were werewolves, Gabe. She bought it cuz’ she had a thing for shiny bits and bobbles. Didn’t even think it could hold a damn bullet, let alone fire one.”

“What, you never got curious and try to shoot it? Show your friends? All that regular teenager shit?”

“What in Sam hell do you think teenagers did?” I say, chucklin’ a little. “We were more interested in nudes, jerkin’ off, and smokin’ weed. Ain’t like guns’r the be all end all anyhow.”

“Hmm, well it isn’t like I can be any judge. I wasn’t exactly your average teen. Also got a violence kink.” “-wait, what was th-” “Anyhow, since you’ll need to be armed and able, we might as well head over to the gun range. It’ll be a nice break.”

“Gotta be better than this.” I say, gettin’ up quick and followin’ the way.

The base itself was still a big mystery t’me. Most of the facilities here are converted from apartments, like the mess hall, or the armory, or even the gym they got up on the roof. The gun range, however, took us to the basement floor, next to the laundry room.

Logically speakin’, it should be a terrible idea to put it here. Gas pipes, water pipes, the god damn foundation, all these things and more at risk of getting’ shot through. But then again this place is all ~magic~ so why not.

Smells bad. Trapped.

It’s a single room. No bigger than any other apartment, with headphones, earplugs, gloves, and anythin’ one might imagine right beside the door. In the room itself is nothin’ more than them long foldable tables, boxes of assorted ammo, and some targets on the other side of the room. 

We walk up to the center table. 

“Hmm . . . this should work for now. I’ll get Jack to see if we need specific ammo for next time.” Gabe says, pullin’ out a box and openin’ it, takin’ out a few shells and loadin’ the gun. “Here, try an take a shot.”

“Uh, shouldn’t we get some of them headphones or som’n?” I ask, pointin’ behind us. 

“Right, right, sorry. Don’t exactly come here often.” He mutters, quickly fetchin’ us some earplugs and noise cancelin’ headphones. 

“Now what you want to do is-” “What?” “-I said-” “What?!” “-TAKE OFF THE DAMN HEADPHONES!”

I take off the headphones and pull out one of the earplugs. “Sorry, couldn’t hear you. What was it you were sayin’?” I say, smirkin’.

“Just . . .” he lets out a huff. “Okay. So what you want to do is hold the gun out in front of you. In both hands, firmly.”

He snaps the revolver closed and hands it to me. It’s a lot heavier than you’d think for such a small lil’ thing. The cool metal bites into my skin, the whole shape so awkward in my hand. But I don’t think too hard on it. I just tighten my grip.

_Grr, don’t need._

“Got it.” I say, holdin’ it straight out in front of me. My hands don’t feel quite right on it. And I can’t really posture myself correctly.

“Wait, wait, hold your hands like . . . that. Your weaker hand should almost cradle your stronger one.” He says, proddin’ me to move, makin’ me grip my left hand as my finger rests on the trigger. It feels a hell of a lot more comfortable. “And spread your legs a bit. Shoulder width, moving your dominant side back a little.”

He steps back, lookin’ over my form. “You’re still too . . . stiff, I think. You gotta imagine you’re a kind of cushion. The gun’s gonna kick back. Not as much as you think, but more than you’d expect.”

I try to take his advice, leanin’ down into the sight and bendin’ my elbows a little. 

“Okay. Now try to fire.” He says, puttin’ the earplugs and headphones back in for me. 

I focus on the target on the other side of the wall, in the vague shape of a human. My finger slowly presses against the trigger, my breath pickin’ up. 

I grit my teeth, squeezing the trigger and-

_NO!_

*BAM*

The recoil makes my hands snap back, and I gasp out. The air filled with the scent of gunpowder, and my hands burned, my whole body aching, my heart racing, the sharp cracking sound all too familiar.

I bite down on mah tongue and force mah hands back down towards the target, pullin’ the trigger again-

*BAM*

I swallow thickly, bile travelin’ up mah throat as I take aim again and-

*BAM*

*BAM*

Mah arms ache, mah legs feel stiff, mah stomach’s twisted-

*BAM*

*BAM*

*click*-*click*-*click*

I slam the gun down onto the table, makin’ the whole thing wobble. I’m breathin’ a lot harder than I thought, an’ Gabe’s hand is rubbin’ circles on mah back. I don’t even think about pushin’ him away, instead just focusin’ on the circles. Small, but always the same. Slow, and just below mah shoulder blades.

I let out a shudderin’ breath, leanin’ forward onto the table, both hands firmly planted. They’re singed. Must’ve slipped mah thumbs near the-the ammo wheel?

“You okay kid?”

“No.” I spit out. “But I ain’t gonna let it happen again.”

I look up, not a single bullet landed even close to the target. Mah hands shake as I pick up the gun again, unlocking the ammo wheel and takin’ out the shells, steadily tryin’ to reload it. 

“You can take a breather if you w-”

“Don’t need it.” I say, snappin’ it back into place. “What I need is to get better.” I raise the gun back up. “On mah own.” 

I can feel him look me over for a while. He only gives a small nod. And I squeeze the trigger.


	7. The Engineers

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I like nerdy talk, there's plenty of nerds in this au, and Efi is a really interesting character to me. So, uh . . . here you are. Nerds being nerdy, especially Efi
> 
> Also, I'm sorry that I haven't really defined all the rules and systems which is really important since this is all MAGIC and all, but I gotta give it in increments or I'll just be unloading a ton of exposition. I think I'll be able to show more in the action-y chapters

*Efi Oladele*

It was times like this I regret not bringing a sort of sachel or wheelbarrow. My arms struggle to grip onto all the papers properly, as disheveled as they are. A binder would also help, I suppose.

“Ms. Song! May I come in?!” I shout through the door. I hear her shout back that the door is open, and with my -slightly- free hand, I shove it open. “Good morning, Ms. Song!”

“Efi, it’s fine to call me Hana, you know~!” She calls out from her room. I can hear the hallmark furious clicking and clacking. I follow the rhythmic sound, avoiding the clothes and empty cans strew about..

“I will try to remember. But I very much look up to you.” I say, entering her dimly lit bedroom. She was downing a Mountain Dew can before crushing it onto her forehead, tossing it into an overflowing trashbin. “It seems only natural I address you with the respect you deserve.”

“Ohhh, you’re so sweet~!” she says, leaning further into her screen. “Ha! Try again, scrublord!”

“How is your match going, Hana?” I ask, glancing at the screen. The game isn’t one my parents would approve of, nor one that seemed all too appealing to me.

“It’s going- well, went- as expected. I need to keep my game up, but I don’t doubt I’ll be able to keep my title as StarCraft champion.” She says, spinning towards me in her chair. She is still in her more comfortable sleeping attire, her long hair disheveled from presumably a whole night of video games. Also something my parents would not approve of. “So did you bring it, Efi?”

“Ah, yes.” I say, rifling through my many schematics. “I’m truly grateful for your consultation, Hana. I’ve really hit a wall in the designs.”

“It seems pretty flushed out already, Efi.” She says, taking the plans for Orisa’s gun design. “The size and shape is similar enough to Mecha’s guns, you want to try and change them out?”

“I would rather not.” I say, ordering the other papers. “Your Mecha’s design is more suited for maneuverability, with a gun equipped with the same purpose. However, your reload mechanics and projectile mechanisms seem interesting.”

“I’ll pull up some schematics right now.” Ms. Song says, closing out her game and pulling up the correct document after a small bit of searching, the cursor on the screen a literal blur. “For the projectile speed, that’ll depend mostly on the type and strength of the ammunition, but as for the continuous reload function, we could use the same concept of a continuous mana circuit attached to the core battery. Otherwise we can just adjust the mana pellets.”

I glance over the designs. Though it isn’t my first time looking over Mecha’s inner machinations, I’m still impressed. Ms. Song’s design truly was something revolutionary. Sleek, efficient, and so cool!

“Hmm . . . I will need to order supplies for testing.” I mutter, a gloved hand rubbing my cheek as I begin to list off possible supplies I would need. 

“Oh, don’t worry. I got some spare scrap if you want. Mecha’s mostly a conjured golem, anyhow.”

“That would be much appreciated!” I say, smiling widely at her. “Ah, and you also wanted the schematics for Orisa’s AI setup, yes?”

“Yeah!” she says, grabbing another paper from me. “I’d like to be able to send Mecha on solo recon missions, so I just need a good idea of how large of a space I’ll need to install a more independent AI.”

“What about a separate, conjured module for remote control?” I add. 

“I’ve already tested something like that.” Hana says, letting out a sigh, “But the main drawback of that kind of system would be that I wouldn’t be able to move, and the range is shi- it isn’t good. I might as well be in Mecha working at full capacity.”

I nod in understanding. My phone begins to buzz in my pocket as I am about to give another suggestion. I pull it out and see Fareeha Amari is calling me.

“One moment, Ms. Song.”

“It’s Hana, and take your time.” She says, looking over Orisa’s head schematics.

“Hello? Ms. Amari?”

_“Hello, Ms. Oladele. Do you recall my asking for help prior to my untimely departure to Illios, by chance?”_

“Yes, you wanted to discuss something with your suit as I recall?” I ask, trying to keep my voice calm. Her own battle armor is something of a legend in robotic forums. 

_“Precisely. I’d like to consult you on possible upgrades to attach to my exo-suit. May I speak to you in person?”_

“One moment.” I say, holding the phone away from me. “Hana, is it okay if Fareeha comes in to discuss possible suit upgrades?”

“Yeah. Yeah! I wanted to ask her about her suit’s hovering and auto-stabilizing system, and her fuel cells too.” She says, excitedly, pulling up a few more documents.

I bring my phone back to my face. “We are in Hana’s room. She says she’d love your company, as she would like to look at your suit’s flight capabilities.”

_“Ah, that’s perfect. I’d like to look at her thruster system as well. ETA is 2 minutes.”_

“Fareeha is on her way right now.” I say, already hearing her rumbling steps quickly approaching. It was very satisfying, knowing that had I been using a stopwatch, her predictions were more or less-  
*knock-knock-knock*

“IT’S OPEN!” Hana shouts.

The younger Amari walks through the small apartment, quickly stepping into Ms. Song’s room.

“Ah, hello Ms. Song, Ms. Oladele.” She says, standing in the doorway, her tall form forcing me to crane my neck far back.

“Hello to you too, Fareeha. And c’mon, it’s Hana, you’re among friends!” Ms. Song says.

“My apologies, Hana.” She says, smiling warmly and stepping into the room, a large cylinder attached to her back, no doubt containing her suit’s design revisions she had mentioned. I should ask if she has spares she can loan. Or at the very least where one would look to purchase cylindrical blue-print holders.

“Ms. Amari, ah, Fareeha. You said you wanted to discuss upgrades to your suit?” I ask, quite excited to see her work. In my time here, it was rare I had a chance to discuss with her considering the amount of missions she led.

“Yes, it is actually fortunate the two of you are here.” She says, unshouldering the tube and pulling out large blueprints. “My suit’s flight capabilities take too much energy to generate lift, so I’d like to ask about your thruster systems for Mecha, as well as your energy cell and gravity generator for Orisa.”

“Oh, that’s pretty easy.” Hana says. “I kinda just strapped on jet engines to Mecha and had Jack augment them so they could spit out magic for fuel.”

“Is it really that simple?” I ask.

“Simple is good, it’s also a lot easier to conjure things with a clear picture in mind. A jet engine is a lot easier to make on the fly than something like Fareeha’s suit.”

“Indeed.” Fareeha says, brushing the few loose strands of hair out of her face. “I’ll ask Jack about his augmentations then. Now about that fuel cell . . .”

“Oh, of course.” I say, flustered I had almost forgot, pulling out Orisa’s main body design. “I placed two fuel cells in her, the standard mana fission cores. I tried other fuels, but the only one that would work better would be a charged sapphire generator, and I don’t have the money.”

“Hmm . . . this won’t be an easy fix, as expected. These are entirely new problems, anyway.” Fareeha says, eyes darting across the paper. I was a bit nervous. It was one thing for Hana to look at Orisa’s plans, but Fareeha is such an intelligent, intimidating person. “I could try utilizing heavy water . . . yes, pre-charged fluid as a new coolant system I can draw energy from.”

“Sounds like a bad idea.” Hana chimes in. “Drawing energy from it would still give off excess heat, no?”

“True, but I can have my Efreet feed off the heat . . . though it will be anything but comfortable inside the suit.”

“Fair enough.” She says, grabbing another mountain dew, and gesturing if we wanted one. We decline, and she cracks it open. “Oh, have you talked to Torbjorn lately?”

“The last time I tried he wanted to strap a turret to my suit for field testing.” Fareeha says, bitterly.

“Also a fair point. But last time I talked to him he wanted to ask you about your rocket launcher, Fareeha.” She says, taking a couple gulps of the sugary green liquid before placing it back on her desk. “he probably wants the magic engine behind it to use on his turrets.”

“Hah, of course he would.” She says, beaming and smirking. “He would be a fool for not seeing the potential.”

“Eh, I think he’ll probably get himself blown up a couple of times.”

“Too true.” she says, smirking. “Though it seems to be the key to success, given how our own first upgrades turned out.”

They both laugh heartily, probably drawing upon some memory of their pride and joy bursting up in flames.. I giggle as well, thinking back on Orisa’s graviton incident.

I smile widely, unable to help myself. I was absolutely dazzled by them.

_“Efi, are you sure you want to go so far? What about your schooling, your friends?”_

“I’m thinking of actually using rockets for mecha as well, you wanna see some rough drafts I’ve been working on?”

“Show me!”

_“I know I can still do a lot here. But I want to see more of the world, more of it’s people.”_

“Oh, this design is complete shi- it-it isn’t good.” Fareeha says, quickly stuttering. I laugh loudly as her face turns red.

_“I want to be inspired~”_

“Oh, hey, maybe he could actually help Orisa with his auto-aim system, Efi!”

“It is definitely something I will look into.” I say, smiling.

_“I’m sure of it. If we go, Orisa and I will surely . . .”_

“We shall be there for you when you do.” Fareeha says, patting my head softly.

_“Learn to be great heroes!”_

“By the way, where’s Orisa?”

*bonus scene*

Simply follow basic protocol. It is not difficult.

I walk forward at my average speed for indoor travel, regretting not asking Efi to install padding. I surely sound like a horse. A loud horse.

“A-Ah! What a surprise to see you here, Mecha!” I say, trying immediately to find the bug in my audio systems that caused what should have been an impossible stutter.

Mecha remains silent. Ah! So calm and cool as usual!

“Ahaha, yes, it is actually very expected to see you here, in your garage. I have been attempting some of the humor that Efi is fond of.”

. . .

“I-I’m so sorry. I had no idea that you had no concept of comedy, Mecha.” I say, looking away in what I can only assume is shame. “That was truly insensitive.”

. . .

“Oh, phew. I am glad there are no hard feelings.” I say, my internal temperatures rising above normal. “Maybe Efi and Hana and I could . . . program something for you . . .”

. . .

“I’m not sure- no, factually speaking you are correct, only I would need to be there, given their consent of course.”

. . . 

“Th-Then it is a date!” I MUST REPORT TO EFI, I HAVE SUCCESSFULLY ACCOMPLISHED THE ROMANCE PROTOCOL!


	8. The Templar's Duty

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter took longer than I expected, as will the next one since classes are starting up again.  
> But for now enjoy some of helpful Jack and his crazy high-jinks. 
> 
> Thank you for reading in advance and comment if you like, it always helps to get feedback.  
> Shout out to my betas InkyImp and Kainotter  
> Get ready because the next chapter is a mission, meaning magic in action and an actual combat scene??? Also it might be in third person, which will be noted since my character perspectives are anything but consistent

*Jack Morrison*

“Pleeeeeaaaase~ please-please-please-please-”

“Hana.”

“It’s literally just one incy wincy teeny weeny favor!”

“Borrowing my car doesn’t seem all that incy wincy to me.” I say, glancing at all the doors around us nervously. The halls weren’t exactly soundproofed or anything.

“Pleeeeaaaase, it’ll just be a day, then it’ll be back home safe and sound, I swear! I neeeeed to go to this event, or else my fans will lose faith in me!” she pleads, wide-eyed. “I can’t let them down!”

I let out a sigh, rubbing my face, the stubble making my hand itch. “Just a day. And be back before nine.”

“YAAAY!” she shouts, hugging me tightly. “Thank you sooo much!!!”

She detaches from me and I hand her my keys . . . reluctantly. “Be safe. Be good. Be smart.”

“No problem Daddio!” and like that, she takes off with a sprint.

“I’m not your father!” I shout, letting my shoulders sag a little.

She’s been working so hard as one of the newer recruits, it didn’t seem right to deprive her a chance to do something normal for someone her age. Though I doubt fan-meetups were a thing normal teens did.

Just as well, I wasn’t planning to go out today. Winston needs help with some of the paperwork from the Council, Torbjorn organizing his workshop, and Efi with an essay. I’m sure there’s some online summary of The Old Man and The Sea that I can look up. How much good that’ll do, I’m not sure.

Either way, I pick up the pace and head straight down the hall to my ro-

“Jack!” The hairs on the back of my neck stand up, the rest of me freezing up. “Jack, I need your help!”

I grit my teeth, stiffly turning towards the shouting. As expected, Ana was running down the hall, an awkward smile plastered on her face.

“Yes, Ana?” I ask, entirely unsure what to expect. Her needing help was the equivalent of freed zoo animals running wild in a city. I can never know what to expect, other than a mess.

“So I was trying to cook a nice lunch for Fareeha- don’t give me that look!” she says, her cheeks flushing. “It isn’t nearly as easy as they make it seem in those video tutorials.”

“Sorry, sorry, what do you need help with?” I ask, smiling reassuringly.

“Well, we still need to eat, but the oven is a complete mess that must be cleaned before it dries.” She says, putting on one of her charming smiles. “So I was hoping you could pick something up while I-”

“No can do. I just lent my car out to Hana.”

“Oh! Then no trouble, you can clean while I go grab lunch. I’ll pick you up something as well.”

“Bu-” and she shoots me one of her frazzled smiles.

I let out a heavy sigh. “I’ll handle the mess, don’t worry.”

She jumps forward and pulls me into a hug, squeezing me so hard I thought I might pop. “Thank you so much, Jack! I’ll pick up something extra special for you.”

And with that, she’s off as well. I let my shoulders droop again, making my way to her apartment just two floors up from my own.

Her apartment, though as neat and tidy as it is, absolutely reeks. I could be blindfolded but still find the kitchen by the sheer putrid scent alone.

A mysterious black goop cover the bottom of the open oven, with the pan inside still dripping. Plates and bowls alike line the counter, with flour and spices haphazardly spilled about. The top of the stove also has some sort of pan on it, with a lid hastily slammed on.

It didn’t take Holy Eyes to see what had happened.

“Tried to deep fry something. Caught on fire.” I mutter. “Then tried to bake it, in a pan of oil. Also caught on fire. Used a spell to extinguish it all . . . transmuting it into tar?”

I cover my nose with my shirt, eyes watering as I rush over and open as many windows as I could, trying to fan out the awful scent. After a couple of minutes of fanning, and a couple more accidental lungfuls of the acrid smell, I get used to it. 

I let out a sigh as I grab a couple of things from her cupboard. Some mason jars, some sponges, some towels, all the soap. At least it wasn’t another turkey roast.

The smell only somehow gets worse as I scrub, the dried crust being washed away to let out the true form of the foul odor. It was as if an eldritch lord had committed self-immolation just to try and stop whatever abominable concoction Ana had in mind.

Just as well, most of the cooking supplies were only warm. Meaning she had been waiting for the perfect excuse to get me to clean for her. Little does she know how bad I’m gonna get back at her.

I smirk as I rinse off the dishes and put them straight into the dishwasher. That’s right, no careful hand-wash of the dishes this time around, no no. Well, maybe a once over. Only if the dishwasher doesn’t meet my standard.

The dishwasher finally loaded and quaking as if it was sobbing, I immediately go back to the window. The fresh ocean breeze caressing me like a safety blanket. I’m still not entirely sure what she was making. I could only make out burnt garlic and . . . chicken?

I wipe off the sweat on my forehead, pulling my sweat-sticky shirt away from my body.

The kitchen was close to spotless now, the dishes washed, the tile floor wiped down, and the oven fairly cleaned. The smell had seeped into everything, including my very clothes. But that was a problem outside my payroll. And modern technology.

“Oh! Look at all this!” I turn back around and see Ana, perfect timing as usual, though arms now full with food. “Goodness Jack, I should have expected no less from you.”

“Hehe, it’s all relatively clean I suppose.” I say, scratching the back of my head, my cheeks heating up. “Just glad to be of service.”

“I feel bad for making you do so much work.” Lies. “Ah, but I have something for you.” She reaches for one of the bags, handing it over to me. The heavenly smell cuts right through the thick muck that was the ai-“Fried chicken, with some mash and corn on the side.”

“Aw, shucks Ana, you shouldn’t have.” I say, stomach growling, salivating. It’s becoming more and more obvious to me that I shouldn’t have skipped breakfast helping Mei with the draft in her apartment.

“Eat it before it gets cold and soggy.” She says, patting me on the shoulder. I can’t help but smile wider. “Now go, enjoy your lunch, I have to spruce up the living room before Fareeha gets here!”

“Haha, alright, alright.” I say, waving goodbye and I leave, letting out a sigh of relief as I enter back into the hallway. I walk back to my own apartment, stomach urging me to pick up the pace.

The door flies open, followed by my shoes, not bothering to actually straighten them. My feet drag across the wood floor as I enter the living room and-

And I let out another, even bigger sigh, rubbing my face. I should probably shave. Just another thing on the list. The living room table was cluttered as usual. But instead of Gabe’s books or my own runes, it’s the paperwork from the Council.

Mission report statements, recruitment guidelines and medical record statements, inventory of magical items, citations for some other violations they could come up with, the lease on the apartment building (not from the Council, but important nonetheless), safety code violations, renewal on Athena’s lesser god visa, and even more things that gave me a headache just to list off.

I plop myself down on the couch. I should have helped Torbjorn first. At least then I might die. I let the bag of food fall to the side as I start rifling through the papers, trying to figure out the order that I had left them in. It seemed like it was in line with importance, or maybe it was to maximize the ease of which I would be able to fill out the information, or maybe-

“Hey, Jack, is that you I heard coming i- the hell’s all this about, cabrón?”

“Oh, uh, just handling some paperwork for Winston.” I say, smiling at him. He was still in his PJs, which for him consisted of some loose shorts and a tank top with some band on it that I could never recognize.

“Hm. Figured as much.” He says, holding up his laptop, his bare, muscular arm prominently framed. He stayed surprisingly fit given how much he sleeps in. What was it, 2?

“So did you need something?”

“Uh, yeah.” He says, sitting on one of the arms of the couch. “I was gonna ask you if you wanted to help me make some spells later. I’ve figured out a pretty cool enchantment to make a delayed kind of ice trap.”

“Hm, sounds interesting.” I say, rubbing the stubble on my chin, already thinking of a few different engines he might have needed. Since he said trap, he’s probably looking for something that sets up like an emitter spell but had some activation rule, which is a pretty simple switch on circuit, but remote capabilities would be eve-

“Jack.”

“Hm? Oh right, right!” I say, face warming up. “Um, I-I can probably finish all this, wait no then I gotta, um, I can-can-” I start to furiously drum my fingers against my leg. “Maybe 8, or 9, definitely 11-”

“Jack.”

I quiet down, looking up at his stern expression. It was cold and biting and disappointed and-

“Do you want some help?” he asks, face softening, a small smile on his usually stoic face.

My head falls in shame, the words so smoothly slicing through me. But I nod nonetheless.

“Gosh, it’s always the same with you.” He says, smirking as he sits down, setting down his laptop and scanning over the papers. “You should have called me sooner.”

“Sorry I dragged you into all this again.” I say, nails digging into my palm.

“C’mon Jack. Look at me.” I do as he says, and he has the same smile on his face. It seemed so different from what else he’d show other people, almost like it was just for me. I wonder if it’s fake.

“It’s okay to ask me for help. Everyone else asks you for your help, right?” I nod, slowly. “And do you think less of them?” I shake my head immediately. “See? Besides, I really do want to work on some new spells with you later.”

My heart swells. “Then let’s get to work.” I say, trying to stifle down a wide smile.

“So what’d you agree to do anyway?” he asks, face contorted into some sort of grimaced concern. Hm, also a rare one.

“Torb’s workshop cleaning, and Efi needs help on an essay. Old Man and the Sea.”

“Blegh. At least it isn’t as bad as the last time. How does a person even get a turkey stuck to an oven wall?” He says, face still marred with some sort . . . worry?

“Heh, already handled Ana fine on my own this time. Actually got dinner for it.”

“You mean lunch.” He says, picking up some papers. “Crack it open and we can eat while we do this.”

“You know the council won’t like-”

“Fuck the council. They can handle a few crumbs. Besides, I’m hungry, and I know you are too.” He says, smirking. He isn’t wrong.

I let out a little huff, still smiling as I open the foam container, going straight for the corn.

 

* * Bonus scene * *

*Hana Song*

“Hey McCree, what’re you doing up here?” I ask, keys dangling from my hand. “You’re usually in the shooting range this time of day.”

“Wanted Jack and Gabe’s help with somethin’ I’ve been tryin’ to come up with.” He says, slurring his words together slightly. The bags under his eyes tell me what I need to know.

“So why don’t you go in?” I ask. “I need to return Jack’s keys, too, and he doesn’t mind helping out a little.”

“Yeah, but, uh . . . they’re busy in Gabe’s room right now. And I don’t wanna walk in on ‘em again.”

“Oh. Oh!” I say, face reddening. I had no idea Jack had it in him. Good for him.


	9. First Mission

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So as I was typing this up, I realized I was essentially pulling a major plot point from one of Rick Riordan's books. If you can guess what it is, y'all get brownie points. And also can call me an uncreative hack, but you don't have to guess or know what I'm referencing, just do it
> 
> Sorry for the long wait, I hope you enjoy, and please consider leaving a comment with your thoughts! It'd help me improve on both this lackluster chapter and all my future lackluster works <3

*Third Person*

“You know I’m real proud of you, kid,” Gabe says as they trek through the mountains. “You’ve really worked hard these last few months.”

“Thank you kindly, sir.” Jesse says, smirking a tiny bit. He refused therapy, but had tirelessly worked on everything else from shooting, to combat training, to his studies. Gabe thought the last one still needed a lot more work, but they all start somewhere, as they say.

“Now this should be a pretty simple mission. Just in and out.” Gabe says, pulling out a map from his overstuffed pack. Jack was adamant they be prepared for everything from bear maulings to broken bones. “You haven’t been trained in exorcism yet, but it hasn’t killed anyone on sight. Worst case just shoot it.”

“Hm. Never thought I’d be shootin’ at a demon of all things.” Jesse snorts, grabbing the map from Gabe, glancing around before finding the way.

“I know where we’re going.” Gabe grumbles.

“I’m sure you do, sir. But I’ve had a bit more experience in hikin’ and such. Better be of help while I still can.” He says, trying to hide just how sick he was of getting lost or delayed again on this damn trip.

Hiking definitely wasn’t Gabe’s forte. Everything looked the same. Dirt, rocks, some grass or moss, some bushes here or there, how the hell did people even enjoy this. Not to mention the map didn’t make any sense. It seemed so easy. Align it with a compass, find the start, measure everything to scale. But the markings made no sense, nothing looked right. Hell, it’s the 21st century, shouldn’t Winston have been able to program the location into their phones or something? 

But Jesse at the very least seemed confident of the path they were on, trekking up some narrow path, Gabe following behind him. The path’s steep, but it isn’t the worst trail he had been on. Jesse takes a cursory glance around them. The mountain has neat paths cut into it, with roads slicing through the terrain. And if he looked hard enough, he could see houses not too far from here. Even in nature, civilization is never too far away. 

Then again, that’s exactly why they even got called out here.

“Hey. Up there.” Jesse looks back to Gabe, who’s gesturing to some large bush just a little ways ahead of them. “I think that’s it.”

“This?” Jesse asks, walking up to it. “Pardon me, but ain’t we lookin’ for a cave?”

“We are. It just so happens to be behind this clever glamor.” He says, walking up close and leaning in. he begins to whisper some unintelligible incantation. Still, the effects are immediate. The leaves brown, the branches shrivel up before they fall to the ground.

He prods at the dead branches before they eventually vanish into a mist, clearing the way to the revealed cave opening, no larger than your standard door.

“How’d you spot it?” Jesse asks.

“It was the only damn bush pressed up the entire mountainside of sheer rock. Call it a hunch.” Gabe snorts, running his fingers along the edges of the entrance. “There’s another barrier. Jesse, think you can handle this one?”

“Hmm, probably. S’what I trained for, right?” he says, shrugging as he pulls out his revolver quickly. He steps right in front of the entrance, just a few steps back, focusing. “It’s Hiiiiigh Moon- Ow, fuck’s that for, Gabe?!”

“Take this seriously, pendejo.” Gabe grumbles.

“I am! Y’all always shorten yer chantin’, figured I should do the same.” Jesse growls back, realigning his stance.

“Just do the proper spell. I don’t feel like being hexed today. Especially since this one looks like it’s either a plague or impotence.”

“Alright, alright.” He says, taking in a deep breath and closing his eyes.

_“Lambent sky, yet darkened night. Heed my call, to hear their cry.”_

Gabe had to admit, it was impressive.

_“Blood so red, yet all died white.”_

He spent almost a month to create an original spell. Incantation to engine.

_“Show the path, with softened light.”_

An anti-magus, anti-magic enchantment, perfect for him.

_“Lead my gun, in full moon’s height.”_

His eyes snap open, blood red.

_“Grant unto me Deadeye’s Sight.”_

He shoots his revolver, six times on seemingly random points in the air. But the barrier vanishes, the web of magic holding it together splintered.

“Nice job kid. Real thorough.” Gabe comments, running his hand along the cave wall again. It was honestly terrifying. For someone so inept at the theory, he tore through the spell so well that it couldn’t be rebuilt from the fragments.

“Thank ya kindly, sir.” He says, blowing on his gun tip and putting it back into his holster, smirking. It hurt like a bitch to keep both eyes open, but for once something went totally right. Gabe even looked damn impressed.

“C’mon. Let’s take out whatever’s in here.” Jesse nods, following after Gabe.

They turn on their flashlights and head into the cave. The walls are smooth, and widen up a little past the entrance. But there’s a distinct lack of life. No small bones or droppings, no bats, no bugs, nothing other than faint shoe prints from some unlucky fool.

The cave curves as well. Soon it’s impossible to see the entrance of the cave. It’s particularly awful for Jesse. The walls are just a smidge too close, it's just a bit too hot, and the sounds of even his breathing seem like they’re coming from the wrong place. He clenches and unclenches his fist, trying to relax.

“Stay calm, kid.” Gabe says, quietly. “Demons feed on human emotion. Fear being a big one. We’ll be out of here in no time.”

Jesse grits his teeth, but he just nods in agreement.

It isn’t too long until they find a little opening to the cave. An alcove with high ceilings and far walls. The flashlights could barely shine to the opposite end of it.

End. A dead end?

“Shit.” Gabriel growls out, turning around.

_“Claudere.”_

The walls illuminate, lines of red running all over the wall, spreading out in random patterns.

“The hell’s goin’ on Gabe.” Jesse says, turning around and seeing a thin sheen of red cover up the alcove entrance.

“We’re trapped. Draw your weapon.” Gabe says as he wills two shotg-

Why aren’t they manifesting.

“There is no violence in the house of love.”

McCree turns sharply towards the voice, revolver out and and-

Click*Click*Click*

“All weapons of man are useless in the house of love, young one.”

“McCree, use Deadeye, it’s probably an illusory spell or-”

“Oh you can’t see me. For how does one see ‘Love’?” A hand brushes across Gabe’s face. He lashes out, but feels nothing. “Hahaha! Feisty!”

“Who are you. Name yourself.” Gabe says, eyes narrowing. If he could get a name, he could try a few exorcist verses.

“My name? Ah, it is I. God of love. Eros.”

“. . . Come again?” Gabe asks, actually taken aback.

“This guy really Eros?”

“No!” Son of a bitch is pulling a Rick Riordan. No, it’s not that simple. He probably really believes he’s Eros. Meaning finding a name is useless. Then they need to break the bounded field.

“Ah, I can sense them, your doubts, your uncertainty. But fear not, I shall reveal all, and I shall help you, young ones.”

Damn he’s going deep with this.

Gabe runs to the wall just next to the opening. _“Ashen hands, long since decayed, whisper your secrets, softly in your grave..”_ his hand turns an inky black, and red lines run up his arms, pain shooting through his veins. He grits through it.

He puts his hand along the wall, and the inky black slowly runs along it, crawling across the stone.

It’s a glyph based bounded field, similar to the kind that Jack makes, but rather than norse they’re roman. Does Eros even have this mythos in roman origin?

Either way, the spell is simple. Voice activated. It keeps people from entering or exiting, and disables any weapon. As for the whereabouts of the demon . . .

“Ah, I see you’re peering into me. I have nothing to hide of course, I only ask that I peer into you as well.”

His head starts ringing. “Nggh, shit.”

“Gabe, what’s wrong?” Jesse asks, rushing over to him.

“Nothing, nothing. Just need to tell Jack his mental defense runes are shit.”

“Hmmm, yes, Jack, that name to you is . . . important.” The demon says, pleased with itself.

“No shit, sherlock.” Gabe mutters, trying very carefully to not-

“So who is Jack to you, Gabriel?”

Shit. was hoping to avoid this topic for a while. Either way, it’s not the worst scenario, for now he can just play along.

“He’s a fellow magus, and my friend.” Gabe says, calmly.

“Just a friend? I find that hard to believe.”

“I’ll have to agree there, sir.” McCree chimes in.

“Shut up, both of you. He’s a friend. One that I’m particularly fond of.” He mutters, slowly pulling out his ceremonial knife.

“Then let’s peer a little deeper into your mind, shall we?”

“Don’t you fuCKING DA-” _“Aperi Cor Tuum”_

The red lines on the walls begin to glow, the air becoming charged.

The cavern fills with a fog, shifting and morphing until they find themselves in an apartment. Jack and Gabe’s, of course.

_There, where the couch is, they can see apparitions of Jack and Gabe, working tirelessly on paperwork._

“Oh, how sweet. You hate this kind of work, yet you didn’t hesitate to help for a second, didn’t you?”

“So? We’re friends. That’s what friends do.”

“Oh? And are you friends with an Ana Amari?”

“If you thin-”

_The room shifts into the building hallway._

_“Gabriel, could you help me with some paperwor-” “Go suck an egg, Ana.”_

“. . . In my defense she pulls shit like that all the time.”

“Oh Gabriel, you don’t have to hide it anymore!” the disembodied voice shouts merrily. “Let your heart free!”

Gabe, for the most part, only lets out a sigh. “C’mon, can’t you just do the normal thing and try and posses one of us? I was ready to exorcise you from McCree.”

“Why me!” Jesse shouts.

“I mean . . . you seem kinda easy to possess.”

“I have to agree there.” The demon concurs. “Now, if that’s _really_ not enough for you, then what about . . . this?”

_The room shifts again, but this time to their kitchen, with Jack and Gabe standing at the counter._

_“I still can’t believe corn was so cheap!” Jack says over the pot of boiling water._

_“Yeah, pretty good deal.”_

_“Haha! Well I got a lot, so dig in!”_

_“Yes. I love corn. Just corn. Without any seasonings.” Gabe says, an unsteady smile smeared across his face._

“Gabe, you got it so bad.” Jesse says, snickering from the side.

“Don’t encourage this two-bit wannabe love god, pendejo!” Gabe shouts. “Look, I just like corn that way-” “lies” “-SHUT UP, YOU DON’T KNOW ME!”

“Oh but I do know you.” The voice says, chuckling lowly. “I know your secrets . . . your desires . . . your . . . pleasures.”

. . .

“. . . What’s that supposed to me-”

_The scene shifts again, dark like the cave, but it’s smaller and crowded. Obviously Gabe’s room. He’s in bed, covered by a blanket, but from the sounds and hand motion, he’s definitely-_

“-THAT’S NOTHING, JESSE COVER YOUR EYES!”

“Are you still going to deny it now?” Eros says, smugly.

“I COULD BE JACKING OFF TO ANYBO-”

_“Jaaaack~”_

“FUCK OFF!”

“Hmm . . . you are truly deep in your ass with denial. But what do we have here? This one seems rather saucy.”

 

Gabe’s helpless at this point, hands buried in his face as his own apparition fades. _The lights seem to change ever so slight. He peeks up to see himself, bare of everything other than a pair of grey briefs, running a towel along his body. His breath is heavy, and just a little uneven._

_He hears the soft sound of Jack grabbing the door._ And Gabriel’s heart drops. _Jack finally opens the door, standing in nothing but a pair of briefs himself. Some gaudy blue. His eyes are stern, almost cold, the dull blue boring into Gabriel._

_“You just gonna stan-”_

**_“Expulsi.”_**

The illusion fades. The cavern returns to it’s original darkness. Even the glow of the demon’s spell, hell even the damn light from the flashlights can’t be seen. All that’s left there is Gabriel, standing at the center of a blackened cloud, the glare of his red eyes piercing through the smoke.

“I’m really tired of this shit, you know that?” Gabe growls.

“ I expect this kinda treatment from Ana with her scandalized look, from Angela blathering on about professionalism, even from Reinhardt and his incessant YELLING about how cute we are together. As if that’s gonna make us suddenly start fucking.”

“I mean you obviously want t-”

“And over what. Some corn, some paperwork, some hanging out? It makes me wanna vomit. You’re all the same, down to the bone. You all love love, up until it ain’t the kind you were hoping for. And you know what? I do love him. And yeah, I do all that shit because of that. Because unlike everyone else in his shit life, I was the first person to care about him.” 

“But here you are, prancing about like some demigod, telling me how I obviously feel, because I’m too stupid to know my own emotions, is that right? Lowlife like me can’t possibly know the difference of love and in love, ain’t that right.”

“What are you trying to imply? Of course I know how you feel, I’m Ero-”

“Don’t even kid yourself, you low tiered incubus.” 

“INCUBU-”

“Just. **Shut. UP.** You heard what I fucking said.” He nearly shouts, slowly walking towards the entrance now. 

“C’mon McCree. We’re leaving. This ain’t even worth dealing with.” Gabe mutters.

“And just how do you think you’re getting out?” The demon says, an edge of malice clear in his voice.

“Well lets see.” he says, glaring, his grip on his knife tightening. “Either I infect your Barrier and make it, along with you, whither out of existence, or you let us walk out of here. And then take a long sit in your shit hole and rethink this whole Eros shtick. Which option do you think I _love_ more?”

“You thin-”

He brings the dagger up to his other hand an cuts across the palm, the blood already dripping on the floor. 

“Alright! Alright. _Reserare_.” The red lines webbing over the entrance vanish, and Gabe lets out a little huff as he stomps out.

Jesse is quick to follow, not really in the mood to be trapped here and get his mind read. Still, the rest of the walk out of the cave is silent, and though Gabe’s still tense, smoke isn’t pouring off of him at least.

Jesse only dares talk once they’re out of the cave, the hot sun and fresh air a delight.

“So . . . s’okay we didn’t kill ‘im?”

“Yeah, he’s mostly harmless.” Gabe says, turning around and pulling a few things from his pack. “I’ll just set a bounded field and some kind of glamour to deter people.”

“So . . . we could’ve done this from the beginnin’?”

“No, we needed to assess the threat level.”

“Got it, got it . . . So you could’ve canceled that whole illusion thing any time . . . right?”

“I mean, it did take me a little bit to figure out the correct command, but yeah.” Gabe says, pulling out his knife, making Jesse significantly more nervous.

“So you waited so long cuz . . .”

“I wanted to wait for the upper hand in the conversation. It just seemed like a good opportunity.” Gabe says, standing back up. “Now shut up while I cast the barrier.”

“Sure sure, but uh . . . what was that thing at the end . . . with Jack.”

. . .

Gabe turns around, eyes tight, but their normal brown. “Kid, lets just say I did what I did then because he touched a nerve more than anything. So drop it.”

“Yes sir.” Jesse says, clearing his throat before taking a few steps back.

“Hmph. Got a handful of things that set me off. Top of that list is Jack.” He flexes his cut hand, letting the blood drip down the bevel. “Best remember that.”

**Author's Note:**

> So what'd you think? Wanna read more? You think I'm a pretentious ass-hole with no right to write about these character's struggles, and you think I should jump off a cliff? Please do comment then. It's the only way I can improve.
> 
> Or jump off that cliff.


End file.
